Nocturnal
by Red Garden Gnome
Summary: Charlie Weasley and Hermione Granger carry on an unsuspecting love affair in the aftermath of the second wizarding war. With the opening of a new dragon reserve on the horizon, a spin of corruption and malice is revealed, unearthing a vile ruse that threatens to tear apart wizarding Britain.
1. The Spark Between Birds

Nocturnal  
by Red Garden Gnome

Summary: Taking a position in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Hermione Granger grows closer to Charlie Weasley, who's back home from Romania. As their relationship deepens, a spin of corruption and malice is revealed, threatening to tear apart the wizarding community in Great Britain.

The beginning of the story takes place in August of 1998.

Charlie Weasley, born December 12, 1972 (age 25)  
Hermione Granger, born September 19, 1979 (age 19)

Chapter 2 will be posted Friday afternoon. Thanks for reading.

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Chapter 1: The Spark between Birds

Hermione stepped outside of the Burrow, letting the screen door close quietly behind her, as the voices from inside the towering home became muted. She crossed her arms over her chest as a cool, summer breeze stole over her, blowing around her frizzy hair while her light blue blouse rippled with the wind. The night was cloudless, as the moon hung off in the distance across the black canopy of the sky, joined by the stars, which glowed about in a dazzling display, appearing like diamonds lost at sea.

The war was over, as the Battle of Hogwarts had taken place nearly four months before, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There had been causalities, fifty by means of the Daily Prophet, and now, the wizarding community in Great Britain was on the mend. There were some close calls, like that of Fred Weasley, who had nearly been killed in an explosion, however, he had lived (though he spent the next month at St. Mungo's recuperating). It would be a slow burn, trying to live on, knowing what had just happened by that of Lord Voldemort and his wild band of Death Eaters that had nearly cast the entire populace of witches and wizards into total chaos, having anarchy rule. But he had been defeated and he was no more.

However, the effects of the war still lingered; Hermione felt them, especially at night within her nightmares, and she was sure that Harry and Ron had felt it was well. After all, nearly a year on the run had lasting implications for anybody, no matter the witch, wizard, or Muggle.

Hermione thought over the pieces she had to pick up and put back together to give her life more meaning that what it had at the moment. The war had shattered a plan she had set for herself after she finished school and now, she wasn't quite sure what she wanted to do.

On one hand, Ron had made some of his advances quite apparent as it was clear his mind was still drifting over the memory of the kiss they had shared during the final battle. There was also the idea of Hermione returning to Hogwarts to finish her education, just like she had initially intended. With the new term beginning on the first of next month, Hermione had things to sort out, a life to plan, and feelings to harbor.

Just then, the voices inside the Burrow became louder once again, as its screen door creaked open; when it clanged shut, the sound was once more drowned down to a low dull.

Hermione turned her head and saw Charlie walking towards her, donned in a black t-shirt and jeans, his hands in his pockets.

"What're you doing out here, Hermione," Charlie said as a way of greeting, looking slightly baffled seeing her outside.

"Just thinking is all," she responded lightly, looking over at Charlie before she returned her gaze upwards towards the night sky.

"Well, do you fancy a short walk? I like to clear my head after dinner," he offered with a small shrug of his shoulders, "it's always so noisy in there."

"I thought you liked it," Hermione questioned, as the pair started to stroll down the lane, side-by-side with the grass crunching underneath their feet, "a big family and all?"

"I do, you're right about that, but sometimes, my family can be a bit overbearing, don't you think?"

"Maybe, or could it be that you're just not used to it, living in Romania and all," Hermione replied.

"That could be the reason," Charlie said in contemplation with a grin slowly crawling over his face, "I mean, back at the reserve, I do live by myself. It's typically quiet there save for the occasional dragon."

Hermione laughed at this as she looked over at Charlie, who stared ahead of him. She noticed that even though she was shorter than him, Charlie was the smallest Weasley son; Bill, Percy, Fred, George, and Ron all towered over him like the skyscrapers of London, though Charlie packed a lot more muscle than that of his brothers, as his black t-shirt stretched over his bulging biceps. Hermione surmised that working with dragons all day built up one's body and stamina. She also noted that Charlie had the shortest hair of the Weasley clan, as his clean-cut, fiery red hair was waved off to the side.

"So Hermione," Charlie started slowly in a serious manner, snapping Hermione's mind back to reality, "Do you plan on returning to Hogwarts? I overheard Ron and Harry tell mum that they're not going back."

"Well, I'm not exactly sure if I want to go back either, part of me does, but part of me doesn't. I guess you could say that it's all up in the air right now," Hermione sighed, as they strolled by a small orchard that seemed to be infested with fairies, as multi-colored lights danced over her and Charlie's faces. "I think going back is too difficult. I don't know if I could sit in a classroom and sleep in a tower where just a few months ago, a major battle took place, and so many people lost their lives."

"But if you didn't go back to Hogwarts, then what would you do," Charlie asked, his face innocent.

"I think I would like to go and get my parents," she answered solemnly, her arms still folded over her chest.

"Your parents," Charlie asked, stopping mid-step to turn to look at her, making Hermione stop as well. "What's happened to them?"

"Before Bill and Fleur's wedding, I modified their memories so that they would forget they had a daughter…that they would forget about me. With Voldemort and the war, I couldn't risk anything happening to them while I was away from home. I had them move to Australia and take fake identities just in case."

After a hushed quiet, Charlie said, "Wow," as if that was all he could think of to say. "You must really miss them then."

"I miss them a lot, but it was a necessary thing to do," Hermione responded with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Why haven't you gone to get them back before," Charlie inquired, "the war has been over for several months now," he said, quirking up one eyebrow.

"I've been an emotional wreck," Hermione replied, laughing without any humor, "I didn't want my parents to see how I was after the war. It would've called for too much of an explanation on a matter I still don't even feel like talking about."

"You looked fine to me," Charlie replied, cocking his head to one side, as if he was accessing his own memories to see if Hermione seemed at all troubled since she had stayed at the Burrow days after the final battle took place. "I mean, you still do."

"I've gotten better at hiding my feelings," she whispered quietly, her voice enfolding in the darkness that surrounded the pair.

"You know, I'm not good with feelings and all, but I don't think it's healthy if you held onto all of these emotions you have regarding the war," Charlie started, as he moved one of his hands to clasp the back of his neck, rubbing it, "it wouldn't be good for anyone really."

"You're right, but I think that this is just a little different. For me, it was all so personal, seeing the Ministry of Magic infiltrated and targeting Muggle-Borns, watching Hogwarts getting destroyed, people I know being murdered. I know that everyone has suffered a lot, but I think that we all have our own ways of adjusting to our world post-Voldemort," Hermione stated, seeing a shudder run through Charlie at the mention of Voldemort's name, a name that continued to instill fear in the hearts and minds of the wizarding community.

"So when do you plan on going to get your parents," Charlie asked after a quiet moment.

"I'm not sure, but it'll be soon. I have to plan first, and then I can go."

"Whereabouts in Australia are they?"

"I sent them to Sydney," she said, "I thought it would be better for them to go to a major city where there's a lot of people so they wouldn't be easily noticed if it happened that someone came looking for them."

Charlie nodded his head in understanding just as two fairies, one red and the other blue, flew over and encircled the pair, before they decided to sit atop Charlie's right shoulder.

"Looks like we got company," Charlie said warmly, a smile forming onto his face, as he stole a quick glance at Hermione, who grinned in return.

"Have you given any thoughts about what you would like to do after Hogwarts, no matter if you go back or not," Charlie asked.

"For a time, I was thinking about Magical Law, but I'm not sure if that's for me. Recently, I've been particularly interested in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"Really," Charlie said, lifting both of his eyebrows in surprise at her answer.

"Yes, why?"

"You never really struck me as the kind of witch who would be interested in magical creatures is all," Charlie replied.

"Oh, I definitely am. I'm actually thinking about carrying on S.P.E.W."

At this, Charlie's brows furrowed together as he repeated, "S.P.E.W.…you mean like Spew?"

"No, not 'Spew', S.P.E.W. It stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare," Hermione stated.

"Elfish welfare," Charlie repeated again, now folding his own arms over his wide chest, "what does that mean?"

"Well, it's clear that elves are grossly mistreated by witches and wizards and this society stands up and fights for their working rights they ought to have, like paid vacations and holidays!"

"Hermione, don't you think that the elves like to work," Charlie countered.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean that they have to be treated like anything less an intelligible creature," she shot back. "Besides, house elves are too afraid to stand up for themselves, but I'm positive that if they were given fairer treatment, their work would be a lot more pleasurable!"

At this, Charlie held his hands up as if in surrender, seeing how determined Hermione was in advocating for the rights of house-elves.

"Hey, I think it's a great campaign," Charlie started, "it's just that I'm not sure how many other witches and wizards would see their treatment the same way you do."

"That's one of the main problems," Hermione said, nodding her head off to one side in annoyance, "if people refuse to see that there is no trouble, then it doesn't exist, does it? It's just a little fantasy some people have thought up of in their own minds."

"But the treatment of elves has been ingrained in the minds of witches and wizards for ages," Charlie commented, "it doesn't mean it's right," he added quickly, seeing that Hermione had opened her mouth to protest, "it's just hard to change a way of thinking when so many people see it as a diminutive political viewpoint."

Hermione sighed audibly, seeing the sense in Charlie's words as another cool breeze blew over the pair, a chorus of noises from nocturnal animals pounding within their ears.

"If you took a job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, you'd probably be seeing a lot of me around," Charlie told Hermione, staring intently into her warm, brown eyes.

"Really? Why is that," she asked.

"Well, the Ministry of Magic wants to open a new dragon reserve in Wales and my director asked me to oversee its operations. The dragon reserve in Romania is getting way too large and now, with the war over in Great Britain, it's the perfect spot for a new encampment. Apparently, a new dragon species was discovered in northwestern Canada, near Victoria Island, and they're going to send over two eggs so that we can study it in Europe as well."

"That's incredible! Congratulations, Charlie; that seems so exciting!"

"It definitely is…I'm looking forward to it."

"Why haven't you told your family yet?"

"I'm just waiting for the right time, I guess. Everything's set in place and all. I just have to go back to Romania for one week and then, I'll relocate back to England," Charlie said.

"So you'll apparate to work then," Hermione questioned.

"Most likely. There's only a small wizarding community in Wales after all, and being away from home for so long, I feel like I need to be around my family more. With this war, I guess I realized how important everyone means to me, not that I didn't notice before," Charlie added with haste, "it's just that there were so many times that any one of the Weasley's could've, you know, passed on."

"So do you plan on getting your own place," Hermione inquired, surprised to find out that she was genuinely interested in knowing.

At her question, Charlie barked out a laugh as he then replied, "Hermione, I'm twenty-five years old. I think I'm a bit too aged to still be living with my folks."

"I'm sure many people still do," she smirked.

"Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with it, but I like my own space with my own privacy…it's something that I'm missing right now being back here," Charlie said, nodding his head back in the direction of the Burrow, as its yellow lights were peeking from behind drawn curtains of the many windows of the home.

"I know what you mean," Hermione continued on, "I had to share a tent with both Harry and Ron for nearly a year."

"Was that when the three of you were on the run?"

Hermione nodded her head wordlessly.

"Speaking of my baby brother, what is there going on between you two," Charlie questioned, as he then saw that three yellow-colored fairies were now pointing and picking at one of Hermione's wild stray hairs, yet she didn't seem to notice.

Hermione scoffed lightly as she said, "There is certainly nothing going on between Ron and I."

"Really," Charlie responded, feigning surprise, "because it seemed as if Ron couldn't keep his eyes off of you all throughout dinner tonight."

"All we did was share a kiss during the final battle at Hogwarts," Hermione huffed.

Charlie nodded his head in understanding before he replied, "Well, that certainly sounds like something."

"It was just the heat of the moment," Hermione explained, feeling her cheeks flush pink, "Ron had made a comment about the house-elves at Hogwarts and I kissed him. But since then, nothing has happened, at least not in my mind."

"I'm sure something's happened in Ron's mind though," Charlie commented. "I know how a bloke thinks, Hermione."

"Maybe, or maybe you just know how your brother thinks," Hermione counteracted.

Charlie laughed at this as he responded, "That's possible, though I know that Ron can be a right prat sometimes, a prat that doesn't think with his head."

"There was a time that I did fancy him, mainly back in sixth year, but when I kissed him during the Battle of Hogwarts, I didn't feel anything; there was no spark and no emotion. Of course, that's just me, I'm not sure what Ron felt when we kissed."

"Haven't you asked him about it," Charlie offered. "I mean, it's been now, what, four months, hasn't it?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, not really having much of a clear answer to give Charlie. "I guess I've been more focused on healing instead; I assume that's why Harry hasn't gotten back together with Ginny yet, either. With everything that has happened during the war, there was no way things would return back to normal quickly. I mean, Ron and I haven't even argued all that much."

"You two used to fight," Charlie questioned, his eyebrows raised again.

"Yes, every single day in fact. I sometimes wondered whether Ron argued with me just so that I would notice him. Of course I did notice him, he would be silly to think otherwise, as he's made me feel a wide range of emotions ever since I first met him. It's unfortunate the quite a bit of those emotions were negative but I think that Ron doesn't really know what he wants – he just thinks that he and I are supposed to be together and that's it."

"Well, I think you should clear the air with him about this then. Holding this conversation off will only make it worse for when you actually do have it, don't you think," Charlie responded after a long moment, staring over at Hermione with a warm gaze.

"It's not a conversation that I look forward to having," Hermione said in a rather depressed tone. "Ron's a good friend, but nothing more."

By now, Charlie was leaning against one of the trees of the orchard they were by, his hands resting behind him, as half of his face was whirling about in bright colors from the nearby fairies, while the other half of his face was reflected by the paleness of the moon above. Hermione thought to herself that he looked so at ease and so comfortable, as if he didn't really have a care in the world at all at that precise moment.

"How about you, Charlie," Hermione suddenly stated, "Do you have anyone you fancy in your life?"

At this, a tight smile overcame Charlie as he said, "Believe it or not, working on a dragon reserve doesn't call for much romance. I haven't had a steady girlfriend for a couple of years now."

"Haven't you been with anyone since?"

"Oh yeah, of course. A few witches have caught my eye back in Brasov, that's the closest city the dragon reserve is located by, and there's also a wizarding community inside it. I had a few flings but nothing serious," Charlie answered.

Hermione nodded as another cool breeze swept by her, making her shudder, before she asked, "So have you ever thought about settling down and having a family of your own?"

"Yep, although before, I didn't care for one, a family, I mean," he added, seeing a look of puzzlement cross over Hermione's features. "The dragons were more than enough for me, but with this war, things have changed. Of course, mum has since been playing the role of a matchmaker, trying to fix me up with some witch. I suppose it's because Bill's already married with a daughter and I'm the unfortunate one to be the next in line."

His comment made Hermione smile as silent laughter shook her chest.

"Think it's funny, do you," Charlie questioned with mock anger.

"It's just the way you said it – you sounded like it was some chore," Hermione clarified.

Charlie shook his head from side to side good-naturedly as he continued on, "Ever since I came back home, mum has introduced me to five or six different witches…it's honestly been a nightmare."

"I assume that none of the witches caught your attention, then," Hermione inferred.

"The thing is, is that when you've been around dragons for years, it takes a lot to impress me. Mum, however, is adamant on finding me the right bird. It's making me wonder whether I made the right decision to not return to Romania sooner."

"Well, you said before that you're only going to return for one week. Then you'll be back here and your mum will continue searching for someone for you," Hermione said.

"Ah, but remember that I said I was going to get my own place," Charlie shot back with humor, pointing his index finger into the air as if he was making an important point that would affect the entire wizarding population.

Charlie gave a loud sigh before he said, "I just want someone that I can connect with on a serious level. Most of the girls mum has fixed me up with have been incredibly beautiful, but nothing more. It's like you said before, there's no spark. I remember back when I was a student at Hogwarts, all I cared about was looks; I could care less about any spark. But now, I have different standards in what I look for in a girl. I don't know if I'm making sense of not-,"

Hermione, however, cut him off, as she remarked, "It's the same with girls, you know. Obviously every girl is different but I would be lying if I said that girls only look for what's on the inside. Physical attractiveness is natural, though; as human beings, we see with eyes our first. On the other hand, looks can be deceiving."

"You should be careful, Hermione. Knowing mum, she'll likely start trying to pair you off too considering how close you are to our family. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if mum thought of you as some surrogate daughter."

Hermione smirked at this as she replied, "You're probably right. I think your mum can see that Ron and I just aren't for each other. With all the fighting that we used to do, if we ever did get married, you mum would probably recommend for us to go marriage counseling."

Charlie bent over as he laughed loudly, his deep voice floating over like a calm sensor to her ears. Hermione smiled at how boyish Charlie looked when his face broke up into amusement.

As Charlie reigned back in his hilarity, he pushed away from the tree he had been leaning on and took a step closer to Hermione, his hands lingering at his sides.

"Don't worry, Hermione, you have a whole brood of Weasleys who would pounce on Ron if he did anything to hurt you."

"Thanks for that, but I'm positive Ron and I will be just fine as friends," Hermione returned, another smile coating her face.

For a moment, Charlie and Hermione stood there, looking at one another. Her warm, brown eyes met his deep, sea blue ones, as the thought of how attractive Charlie was crossed Hermione's mind, which greatly confused her. She had never noticed it before as she hadn't spent much time alone with Charlie, but he was rather dashing. In fact, Hermione felt quite at ease with Charlie; there was something about him that made her feel comfortable. It was hard to explain or make sense of the matter, but she liked the feeling of it. Never before had she paid much attention to Charlie, considering their age gap, but she rather enjoyed talking with him.

"Well, um, I think we should head back, don't you think," Hermione stated, suddenly becoming rather uncomfortable with her wayward thoughts. "It's getting late."

Charlie nodded his head, his face a mask of unreadable proportions, as the two fairies that had been sitting upon his shoulder flew off, as did those that had been toying with Hermione's hair, unbeknownst to her.

Together, Charlie and Hermione walked away from the small orchard and back toward the towering structure of the Burrow, as the moon lit their path. The sounds of the grass crunching underneath their shoes was the only sound between them, though at odd moments, Hermione would take a quick peek over at Charlie, who had a look of contentment upon his face.

Some minutes later, Charlie held open the kitchen door for Hermione to enter through first, before they climbed the rickety staircase of the Burrow, finding the floor level absent of any attendance.

On the second landing, Hermione walked over to Ginny's partially opened bedroom door, before she turned and said, "Goodnight, Charlie. It was great talking to you."

Charlie turned to face her, however, he seemed to hesitate for a moment as he looked down at Hermione. She saw that his eyes then flitted over to the door of Ginny's room before he said, "'Night, I'll see you in the morning." With a small wave and another smile, Charlie departed away from her, continuing his trek up the stairs, as it creaked under his every other footstep.

Hermione watched him go with inquisitiveness before he disappeared from sight as she entered Ginny's room, shutting it softly behind her. Her eyes then fell upon Ginny, who was running a comb through her long, damp red hair before a mirror.

Seeing Hermione, Ginny turned and asked, "Where have you been? I was looking all over for you after dinner."

"Oh, I was with Charlie," Hermione exchanged, noticing through Ginny's mirror that a small blush had since colored the base of her neck.

"Charlie," Ginny repeated in curiosity with raised eyebrows.

Hermione nodded as she clarified, "I stepped outside for some fresh air after we ate and Charlie joined me, that's all."

As Hermione went over to her bed to change, Ginny questioned, "What did you two talk about?"

"A lot of things, actually, like going back to Hogwarts and relationships."

"You talked with Charlie about relationships," Ginny said in surprise.

"Yes…why?"

Ginny shook her head lightly from side to side as she proclaimed, "Bill's the only one Charlie talk's relationships with!"

"Honestly, it wasn't like we had a deep meaningful discussion about it," Hermione rephrased, feeling her cheeks flush, "we just exchanged a few words here and there."

"Oh, a few words, was it," Ginny said, stressing the word 'few'.

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Hermione responded, as she started to change into her pajamas.

Ginny laughed before she questioned, "So have you made up your mind about Hogwarts, yet? Are you going to come back with me?"

"I haven't made a decision, but I'm kind of leaning towards not returning," Hermione answered.

This took Ginny by surprise as her jaw fell open. "Seriously? I thought out of you, Harry, and Ron, you would definitely return! You wouldn't let me return all by myself, would you," she teased with a small pout.

"Ginny, you still have plenty of friends there, like Luna, for instance," Hermione said, sensing her friend's humor.

"I know, I know. I suppose it's a bit scary with this being my final year and all," she remarked, suddenly turning serious.

Hermione sat down on her bed as she looked over at Ginny who made to lie down, resting the side of her head against her pillow.

"Aren't you excited, though? This is your last year and then you're finished!"

"Of course I'm excited," Ginny conceded, "but now, we have to decide what we're going to do with the rest of our lives."

Hermione nodded her head in understanding, as she said, "I'm thinking about that right now."

"Hermione, I'm sure you have nothing to worry about. Didn't you say that Kingsley offered you just about any job within the Ministry?"

"He did but I just want to make sure that it's the right one," she said, as she lay down upon her mattress, fitting her head comfortably on her pillow.

"You shouldn't worry so much, Hermione. I know that you'll pick the right one," Ginny stated with a comforting smile. "Anyway, we should get some sleep…good night."

"Good night, Ginny," Hermione stated after a second, flicking her wand at a nearby candle, extinguishing it, and casting the room into darkness.

Sleep, however, did not come for Hermione right away, as she lay awake in her bed, staring up at the darkness hovering above her. Her mind kept replaying Charlie's brief hesitation upon the stairs just before they bid each other 'goodnight'. It seemed as if Charlie wanted to say something to her, but for some reason, he had held back.

'Perhaps it was nothing of importance,' Hermione said to herself, shrugging off his inaction. 'Maybe I'm looking into something that's not even there.'

Hermione then yawned behind her hand, as she turned over onto her side, and closed her eyes. White beams from the bright moon flashed into the room between the window's curtains, settling upon Hermione's form as she lay partially tucked under the cover of the bed she was in. After what seemed like no time at all, she fell asleep.


	2. Amata

Hello! Hope you enjoyed Chapter 1, as Chapter 2 is now here. Chapter 3 will be posted Monday afternoon. Thanks for reading.

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Chapter 2: Amata

The scent of the woods filled Hermione's nostrils; a sound of savageness punctuated her eardrums; a trickle of blood raced down her neck. She opened her eyes to find herself on the floor of a dark forest, her bed made of leaves, broken twigs, and dirt. The trees around her stretched into the starry night, its limbs masking that of skeletons robed in dark matters, while the air was void of any wind to speak of.

Hermione tried to pick herself up but found that she could not. She grunted, her face screwed up in tenacity, but the limbs of her body were not under her own control. She tried to wiggle her fingers or her toes but nothing would bend to her will. Her breathing became ragged as she realized that while she was clothed, she was very cold.

Suddenly from nearby, a voice cried out in pain. Hermione tried to tweak her head towards the sound, but she then remembered that she couldn't move.

"Hello," Hermione called out, surprised to find that her vocal chords still worked, yet her voice shaking because of the chill that continued to run down her spine and because she now was very nervous.

A growl greeted her, making Hermione spasm on the ground uncontrollably. The voice close at hand started to moan and wail, until a sickening gnashing sound was heard, effectively quenching it.

"Who's there," Hermione asked, though her voice betrayed her need to feel like she wasn't afraid or perturbed.

She sensed movement next to her, something crawling in the dark shadows that surrounded her body, though she couldn't directly see anything from her field of vision.

Someone or something was coming closer and closer to her, as she felt waves of shudders wash over her, her breathing becoming more uneven.

Suddenly, a face came into sight, making Hermione gasp loudly, her surprise radiating off of her in complete and utter shock. She was now very, very frightened, for the werewolf Fenrir Greyback now hovered over her.

Hermione saw his dark blue eyes wash over her figure, as his tongue started to lick away at his bloodied fangs in a hungry manner, pieces of meat stuck between his jagged teeth. His long brown hair hung off of him in a thick coat as his long fingernails dug into the earth around Hermione. Greyback bent closer to her, his damp nose making contact with her exposed neck, making Hermione whimper in what was going to come.

"You smell divine," Greyback whispered, an edge to his voice, making Hermione tremble again, "you're going to give me great pleasure to feast on your flesh."

Suddenly, an owl came into view, intruding on this horrific sight, flying down from its perch that was situated in the darkness of the trees above. Greyback sensed this for he snarled viciously, and turned in the air. With his jaws gnashing, the werewolf bit into the owl, severing it in two separate pieces, the wings of the soon-to-be dead bird beating frantically, with some of its blood splattering onto the forest floor, while the rest of its blood crawled down Greyback's hairy chin. The owl's body landed next to Hermione with a soft _thud_ , its head brushing against her arm.

Hermione cried out in disgust, as the werewolf's head snapped back to her, his eyes alight with a bigger prey than that of an owl. Greyback growled as he lowered himself closer and closer to Hermione, as she felt him sniff at her, his snout dampening her neck .

"Now it's your turn," the werewolf said in a deathly quiet manner. Without wasting another second, Greyback barred his fangs and plunged towards Hermione, who suddenly sat up in her bed, her heart beating a mile a minute, threatening to burst out of her chest, as beads of sweat poured down her face.

Hermione looked around her and saw Ginny asleep a few feet away in her own bed, her features betraying nothing of what she might be dreaming about, if anything at all.

Hermione tucked her head down towards her chest, hugging her knees, as she closed her eyes, and told herself, 'It was just a dream…it was just a dream.' However, her dream, or to be more precise, her nightmare, seemed all too real to her…and parts of it was of a past reality.

Back when she, Harry, and Ron were on the run, the trio had been captured by Snatchers, who brought them to Malfoy Manor, where Hermione was tortured by the vile Bellatrix Lestrange, who then discarded her for Greyback to finish her off.

Hermione, on the edge of oblivion after having the Cruciatus Curse placed upon her numerous times, remembered the werewolf's sharp fangs, his foul breath, and a look of a sickening desire dancing in his eyes.

Now, sitting up in her bed, Hermione shook her head from side to side softly, willing for her nightmare to go away. After several minutes, Hermione quietly got up from her bed, as she made her way over to the bathroom the entire Weasley family shared.

After she closed the door behind her, she bent down towards the off-white pedestal sink, without even chancing a look at what she looked like in the mirror, washing her face with bouts of cold water, as if she was trying physically rid herself of her nightmare, with the cold water acting as some sort of ancient medicine.

After Hermione turned the water off, she moved away from the sink, and saw that the sun's rays had started to color the tiled bathroom floor. She sighed to herself, seeing that she was still tired and wanted to go back to sleep, yet the day had already begun, not to mention the fact that she didn't want her nightmares of a haunting Greyback to return.

Deciding that she would start her own day, Hermione crept back to Ginny's room, grabbed her toiletries, and headed back to the bathroom, the floorboards underneath her feet squeaking with her every other step.

* * *

Several minutes later, Hermione found herself exiting the kitchen door of the Burrow, stepping out into the semi-cool, early morning air, a book tucked against her stomach. Hermione had thought that members of the Weasley clan would be awake, as Mrs. Weasley surely would be, yet she was surprised, and rather relieved, to find that no one was after she made her way down the staircase and onto the ground floor of the home.

Hermione knew she looked like she was in a right state, and she didn't want to be pestered on why she looked so harrowed; she wasn't keen on re-telling her nightmare to anyone, not even to herself.

However, the chilly morning air was of a mass comfort to her, as a brittle wind blew around her. Her shoes squashed the dew-covered grass underneath her, while songbirds called out to one another.

The morning over Devon was a mix of sun and clouds, as half of the sky was of a midnight blue color, while the other half was turning to a light pinkish-blue.

Hermione took in a deep, calming breath, as the comforting sights, sounds, and smells of nature surrounded her, easing her troubled mind back into a steady state.

After Hermione spotted the orchard her and Charlie talked by last night, she turned away from it, and instead walked over to a small collection of tall trees, nested some feet away from the Burrow's shed. Hermione walked in between the trunks of two trees as her eyes then fell upon a pond that had been hidden from sight. She smiled at the solace these trees gave her, acting like some makeshift fortress, guarding Hermione from what might lurk beyond its own borders.

Hermione walked around the edge of the pond as she then spotted a large slab of rock that was situated some feet above the smooth waters of the pool. She walked over to it, and sat herself down, letting her feet dangle over its edge, as the tips of her toes skirted the pond's surface.

With her book lying in her lap, Hermione slowly looked around herself, enjoying the calm that was bouncing around her little hideaway, not taking in anything in particular but the quietness of the area. While it was true that Hermione liked to be around her friends, she also enjoyed the time she spent by herself – it gave her a chance to gather own thoughts and try to make sense of them.

Hermione thought about the Burrow, about how it was quite alone in its own landscape, like a treasure found between the rocks, even though in the back of her mind she knew that the Lovegood home was situated over the rolling green hills not too far away.

As another slight wind kicked in around her, Hermione's eyes followed the trail of a frog that was swimming around in the waters of the pond, its track occasionally blocked by a stray lily pad. She watched it dart around with surprising speed as the animal seemed unperturbed by her prying eyes in the early hours of the morning.

"Hermione," a deep voice called out from behind her, making her gasp aloud and turn around quickly.

"Charlie," she finally managed say after overcoming her jolt of surprise, "what're you doing here?"

"It seems like I could ask you the same thing," he shot back, a small grin crossing his face. She saw that he was dressed in a plain white t-shirt, though the shirt looked rather worse for wear, and blue jeans, that had several burn marks plastered upon it; his short, fiery red hair wasn't styled in any particular form yet Hermione again found him quite handsome, much like she did the previous night. She also noticed that he was rather tan, though that was to be expected, considering that he works outside on the dragon reserve all day.

"I couldn't sleep," Hermione told him, mentally deciding that she rather not share the main reason of why she couldn't sleep. "And what about you?"

"I'm an early-riser," he answered, as he started to walk around the edge of the pond in a slow manner, his hands fitted in the pockets of his jeans, "many of us are that work back on the reserve. I must say though that I'm surprised to find you in my favorite spot."

"This is your favorite spot," Hermione asked, looking around.

"Yeah, it's an escape from my family when they become a bit too much," he responded, looking over at her.

"Do you mean that no one else knows of this place," Hermione inquired, thinking that it wasn't too hard to find as it was in plain sight of the Burrow itself.

"Oh they know about it, but they don't find it as engaging like I do," he said softly, "it's peaceful here. There's not many places like this at the reserve."

"You miss it, don't you," Hermione questioned, as Charlie finally made his way over to the slab of rock she was sitting upon, as he situated down next to her.

"I do and I don't," he said simply, shrugging his shoulders as his gaze looked down at the quiet waters below, "I, of course, miss my dragons, but I miss my family more. I feel like I've missed watching Ron and Ginny grow up as I was away from everyone most of the time. I would find it crazy how much both of them have changed between my visits back home, and I know that Bill felt the same. I think he still does, actually. I mean, I love Romania; it's my second home, but nothing beats life back here."

Charlie looked behind his shoulder while Hermione repeated his actions, as through the branches of the trees, she could see the Burrow looming close by them. For a while, the two of them sat next to each other, both of their legs and feet hanging over the waters of the pond, Hermione feeling completely at ease, which was a stark contrast to how she felt when she first woke up that morning, not even one hour ago.

"This is going to sound tacky but I used to refer to this place as Amata," Charlie stated, not looking over at Hermione.

"Amata," Hermione repeated, "you mean the name of the woman from the story, 'The Fountain of Fair Fortune' from _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_?"

This caused Charlie to look over at her with wide eyes, as he asked, "You know of that story?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded, "Professor Dumbledore left me his copy of it in his will. But why do you refer to this place as Amata?"

"Because according to the story, as I'm sure you remember, Amata was depressed by some man that had left her, and I feel like I can sometimes relate to her. Part of me thinks that I'll never find that special witch that I can settle down with; not because she doesn't exist, but because we haven't crossed each other's paths. Maybe I should take a trip to the Fountain so that it can relieve me of my own grief and longing," he joked.

"Charlie, you know as well as I that that fountain doesn't have any special powers," Hermione said in a business-like tone, "it's just a fairy tale."

"Hermione, I was just kidding around," Charlie laughed, his chest and shoulders shaking in mirth.

Hermione rolled her eyes at his sense of humor before she then turned serious as she said, "You shouldn't give up finding the right girl for you, Charlie. I'm positive that there's someone out there for everyone; it's what my mum always told me growing up."

Charlie smiled at this last tidbit of information Hermione shared with him about her mother, as he then likened her to that of his own mum.

After a moment's silence, which was punctuated by the birds still singing to one another, Charlie phrased, "You know, you never did tell me why you couldn't sleep."

"I guess I just have too many thoughts in my head," Hermione replied. Even though that wasn't the main reason why she couldn't sleep, it was at least partially true. "I'm just trying to decide what would be the best for me to do."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Charlie was nodding her head at her words, as he said, "I know how you feel. I found myself in the same position that you're in right before I finished Hogwarts. There's a great big world outside of those castle's walls, and you feel as if you're nothing more than a small speck that's part of a much grander stage. It was kind of scary at that time as I didn't really know what I wanted to do then."

Hermione turned her head to look over at Charlie, asking, "Then how did you figure it out?"

"I stopped thinking of what was best for me to do and focused on what I actually wanted to do," he said back to her. "Mum wanted me to apply for a job in the Ministry, saying that dad could put in a good word for me, but I just couldn't find myself to get excited for it. Before I decided that I wanted to move to Romania to work on the dragon reserve, I started to understand that in order to figure life out, sometimes you have to think of you own needs and work everything around those specific needs. I know it sounds selfish but this is your future we are talking about. Besides, given what you, Harry, and Ron went through during the war, I doubt that anyone in the wizarding community could fault you for doing something for yourselves."

"You know, Charlie, Harry, Ron, and I aren't the only 'heroes' in the war," Hermione started, stressing the word 'heroes' with distaste, "everyone had a part."

"True, but you three had the biggest parts – the rest of us were just the supporting characters."

"I guess," Hermione said quietly, more to herself than to Charlie, as he noticed that she wasn't at all impressed with being branded as a hero or a savior of sorts of the wizarding community in Great Britain.

"You don't like the hero trademark, do you," Charlie questioned.

"I just don't understand why it would matter who the heroes in the war were; what difference does it make?"

"I don't know for sure, but I think that people like to cling onto to someone or to some people that they can see with their own two eyes as it makes everything more real to them. The pain the war brought was very real, and sometimes we all need to have our own figurines to give us some amount of hope…that's what you, Harry, and Ron did for all of us, you gave us something that matters," Charlie reasoned.

"It doesn't matter to me," Hermione responded simply. "And I'm sure it doesn't even matter much to Harry, if it even matters at all to him."

"Well, when you think about it, it makes sense, doesn't it? Harry has been at the center of attention for most of his life, ever since he was a baby. He was bound to get sick of all of it at one point."

Hermione softly shook her head from side to side, replying, "Harry's never really liked all of the attention he gets, good or bad."

At this, Charlie pouted out his bottom lip as if he was in deep thought, thinking about matters beyond the reach of philosophers that were trying to marry together the two subjects of science and religion.

"Since you seem to know more about my siblings than I do nowadays," Charlie started with a slight tease laced within his voice, "what do you think Ron will think about all of the extra attention?"

Hermione scoffed at this, as she answered, "Of all the times we've been out in public since the end of the war, he's been utterly in awe of people fawning over him. I'm actually glad your mum put up wards around the Burrow to keep the media away."

Charlie smiled at this point, looking over at Hermione and saying, "Don't worry…it'll die down eventually."

"I hope so," Hermione stated, though Charlie could tell that Hermione doubted his words. "How do you feel about your family being part of this media circus?"

Charlie seemed to think about this for a moment before he replied, "I don't like it, but it's to be expected. I guess I'm just trying to weather the storm and ride it out until it blows over. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, shrugging her shoulders, "you just seem more kept to yourself. I don't know what you really think about most of the time."

As Charlie registered her words, she saw his face light up in surprise before it quickly vanished, replaced by a smirk, as he looked over at her and conceded, "Well, I guess you could say that I'm a bit shy. For me, it takes time for me to open up to certain people."

"You didn't seem like that last night when we were talking," Hermione countered playfully, "and you didn't seem like that this whole time you've been with me so far this morning."

Charlie's face burned, though he tried to hide his embarrassment. "Y-Yeah, you're right. I-I guess I just feel comfortable around you, then."

Hermione turned her head away from him, trying to hide the amusement that was breaking across her face to avoid Charlie from any further mortification.

The two of them continued to sit there, sitting next to each other on the slab of rock that stood feet above the pond, content with each other's presence. Another soft wind blew over them, rustling about fallen leaves over the green grass that surrounded the pool, as the lily pads within the waters drifted about. In uneven intervals, the sun would make an appearance, glistening the surface of the encircled lagoon, before it was disappear behind a mass of clouds. The scene that enveloped them was so serene, like it was a moment in time that would soon be lost to the ambiance that hung above it.

Hermione couldn't quite understand why, but she found herself to be comfortable with Charlie. While it was true that she hadn't ever spent much time with him (with her only memory of him being at the World Cup before she started her fourth year, and when he was at Bill and Fleur's wedding), she didn't feel like Charlie judged her in any way, shape, or form. To her, he was a breath of fresh air, something that she desperately needed after the war. A tiny voice inside her head told her that she wanted to spend more time with Charlie if she got the chance to.

Suddenly, a loud rumbling sound was heard emitting from Charlie's stomach, making both he and Hermione look down towards it. They both laughed at the interruption of their peaceful moment, before Hermione suggested, "Well, shall we head back to the Burrow then so you can get something to eat?"

Charlie smiled over at her before he said, "Yeah, let's head back."

The two then stood to their feet as they walked off of the slab of rock and made their way out of the cluster of trees, heading towards the structure of the Burrow that soared towards the sky.

As two blue birds flew before them, Charlie suddenly inquired, "Hermione, did I keep you from reading?"

She looked over at him and saw that his eyes were trained down upon the thick tome she was holding against her chest.

"Oh, um, no, not at all," she said. "I mean, I of course planned to do some reading but I didn't mind your company," she told him, her cheeks flushing pink.

"What book do you have, anyway," Charlie requested, ignoring her slight discomfort.

"It's a book on goblin revolutions," she answered, holding out her book for Charlie to glance the cover of.

"And do you have an interest in goblin revolutions?"

"Not specifically on goblin revolutions, but I do like to read about subject matters pertaining to the wizarding world…I find it completely fascinating!"

Charlie chuckled as he said, "I bet you did really well in History of Magic class, didn't you?"

"I did well," Hermione acknowledged quite humbly, "but it was hard trying to keep both Harry and Ron awake during class."

"Yeah, I heard Ron complain quite a few times about how dull he thought the class was," Charlie remarked.

"Honestly, if Ron put in a bit more effort into his schoolwork, I'm positive that he wouldn't have found it boring at all," Hermione responded, looking affronted over how Ron could say make such a blasphemous statement.

As Charlie pulled open the screen door for Hermione to enter through, he said, "This is Ron we're talking about. The only things he would even consider putting more effort into is Quidditch and eating."

Hermione giggled as she entered back into the kitchen, making its two occupants, Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, look up at the two new entrants. Hermione noticed that a wicked gleam materialized within Ginny's eyes, while Mrs. Weasley called out, "Good morning you two! Arthur just left for work but take a seat, take a seat; it's almost time for a spot of breakfast!"

"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione replied, taking a seat next to Ginny.

"Morning, mum," Charlie followed, as he took the spot next to Hermione.

"Where have the two of you been," Ginny asked, looking at Hermione, then at Charlie, before her eyes darted back to Hermione, as all types of food was flying around the kitchen due to Mrs. Weasley's fluid wand movements, chopping itself up and cooking on the stovetop. Hermione saw sliced mushrooms neatly lay themselves down onto a frying pan, as a low _HISS_ was heard, while six eggs cracked open in mid-air, as its contents fell into a neighboring pan.

Hermione glanced quickly at Charlie, before she returned her attention back at Ginny and said plainly, "Amata."

"Where," Ginny questioned, her brows pulling together in complete bafflement.

Both Charlie and Hermione laughed loudly, as Mrs. Weasley commented, her eyes drifting towards the kitchen's ceiling, "What on earth is keeping those two boys holed up there? Well, you three," she gestured, looking at Ginny, Hermione, and Charlie in turn, "can start eating. What such nonsense that they sleep in so late!"

Hermione presumed that Mrs. Weasley was talking about Harry and Ron, as she waved her wand again to have eggs, bacon, sausages, fried bread, baked beans, and mushrooms fly onto plates that settled itself down in front of the kitchen's trio.

As the three said their 'thanks,' Hermione felt Ginny gently nudge her arm. She looked over at her red-haired friend, who nodded her head inconspicuously over at her older brother, who was eating his breakfast at a steady pace, unlike that of Ron.

In return, Hermione shrugged her shoulders good-naturedly, just as Harry and Ron stumbled into the kitchen. Harry's raven-black hair looked as if it had seen better days, though not much better, while Ron's face lit up in excitement seeing all of the prepared food waiting to be devoured.

Upon seeing the two boys, Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, "Well, it's about time you two got up!"

As they both took a seat at the kitchen table, Harry sitting across from Ginny while Ron took a seat across from Hermione, Ron said, "Mum, it's not even nine in the morning. It's not like we have any school work to do."

Huffing, Mrs. Weasley looked over at her youngest son and said, "Ron, I really wish you would consider going back to Hogwarts to finish your education, like Hermione."

At this, everyone turned their attention on Hermione, who glued her eyes to her plate of food below her, trying to block out everyone else's awareness.

Ron broke the calm tension, as he responded haphazardly, "We can't all be like Hermione – some of us are better in school than others."

Hermione then saw Mrs. Weasley put her hands on her hips as she shot back, "You know, if you used your energy to focus on your school work rather than complain about how others are fit for school or not, maybe you would've gotten more O.W.L.s."

As the tips of Ron's ears grew bright red, Hermione looked over at Harry and wondered how he was faring. While he kept stealing convert glances over at Ginny, Hermione remembered how Harry told her he was alright; that it would take some time to adjust to a world without Voldemort. Hermione believed him, and knew he was right, yet she couldn't help but notice that Harry still had inner demons that he was still battling. Truthfully, though, Hermione was sure that everyone still had vicious beasts that still clawed at their sanity.

However, at this time, Ginny suddenly pointed towards the kitchen's window, saying, "Look!"

Everyone turned their attention towards the glassed pane to see four ministry-looking owls flying towards the Burrow, letters clasped within each of their talons.


	3. Phillip Soren

Hello everyone! Thanks for the reviews, follows, and favorites! Hope you enjoy Chapter 3, and Chapter 4 will be posted this Thursday afternoon! Thanks for reading!

* * *

Chapter 3: Phillip Soren

The four Ministry-looking owls zoomed through the open kitchen window of the Burrow, as one landed in front of Harry, another in front of Ron, one flew over to Hermione, with the final owl making its way to Mrs. Weasley, who was standing by the kitchen sink, drying her hands upon her apron.

"What on earth," Ron began, his eyes growing wide at the new arrivals.

Hermione untied an envelope from the leg of the owl that was in front of her, which bore the Ministry of Magic seal upon it, before she opened it, and extracted a piece of parchment from within. She unfolded it, as both Ginny and Charlie leaned in closer to her, and read:

 _Dear Miss Granger,_

 _On the night of August 14, the Ministry of Magic cordially invites you to the Hogwarts' Banquet to celebrate the end of the war, and to honor the brave witches and wizards that gave their lives to fight against the division of the wizarding community here in Great Britain. The commemoration will be held in the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, starting at six o'clock in the evening. Everyone here at the Ministry of Magic hopes your attendance will be counted. Hoping you are well._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Kingsley Shacklebolt  
Minister of Magic_

Hermione looked first at Ginny, who had a surprised expression on her face, and then looked at Charlie, who in turn, was staring at her, his face void of any readable emotion. Hermione then chanced a glance over at Harry, who had gone quite pale, while Ron exclaimed, "A banquet!"

Mrs. Weasley looked over at all of the occupants sitting at her kitchen table after she set her own letter down, as she remarked, "Well, this was bound to come up sooner or later. Arthur has heard about the idea of this banquet tossed around over the past several weeks now."

Hermione looked back down towards the letter that was addressed to her, as she thought about the idea of returning to Hogwarts to celebrate Voldemort's defeat as nauseating – the effects of the war still had a stronghold on her, which is one of the reasons why Hermione did not want to return for her final year to complete her education, yet she knew that she was expected to go to the banquet, along with both Harry and Ron.

"I guess you lot better take a trip over to Diagon Alley soon to get fitted for dress robes," Mrs. Weasley commented, "the banquet is in five days," though Hermione noted that Mrs. Weasley did not seem at all excited for the upcoming supposed celebration; the only one that did seemed to be Ron.

Everyone nodded their heads, albeit silently, while they returned to their breakfasts. Hermione looked down at her half-eaten plate as she pushed around her food for the next several minutes, before she deduced that she had lost her appetite.

* * *

The following day, Hermione found herself sitting in the midst of Amata, as she now called it, on the same rock she and Charlie conversed upon the previous morning, as one of her legs was dangling over its side, above the surface of the pond's waters. The sun was shining from up above, procuring a beautiful day, as not one cloud was lingering in the blue sky overhead.

With a book open in her lap, Hermione heard the nearby yells of an ongoing Quidditch scrimmage played between Harry, Ron, Ginny, Charlie, Fred, and George, in the Weasley's orchard, as their voices carried over in the wind. For some reason, she found this comforting, hearing the familiar sounds of her friends, as the feeling of peace was set through her.

She sighed in contentment, as a breeze overtook her, blowing around her frizzy hair, while a mess of fallen leaves scuttled over the pond, becoming drenched with its waters.

Hermione was reading a book titled _The Goblin Liberation Front of 1765_ , as the sound of each turning page was like music to her ears, soft, yet intricate, as Hermione devoured the information each sheet held. To most others, Hermione knew, learning anything about the history of the wizarding community at large was tedious and uninteresting, yet she found it completely fascinating. Perhaps it was the fact that Hermione grew up in the Muggle world, and had already learned all of England's history that she could, from the Battle of Hastings, and through the reign of Queen Victoria.

But now, the history of the wizarding community and how it evolved ever since its inception, captured the attention of Hermione, as a new and completely vast world of knowledge now had to be read and learned. Hermione always found herself jumping at the opportunity to learn anything new that was related to the magical world.

Although Hermione became more and more engrossed within the words of her book, the sound of footsteps crunching over the grass behind her, reached her ears, as she turned to look over her shoulder to see Charlie making his way over to the cluster of trees Hermione was hiding within, his focus bent towards the ground he was walking upon.

For an unknown reason, Hermione suddenly found herself smiling at his imminent arrival. While it was true that Hermione and Charlie barely spent any time at all together during the summers she came to the Burrow whilst she was still a student at Hogwarts, Hermione felt comfortable around Charlie, like she did with all of the other Weasleys. She enjoyed her time talking with him over the past two days, and it seemed as if he did as well.

Walking between the two thick trees that acted as a make-shift entrance into Amata, Charlie lifted his head and instantly spotted her.

"Hermione," he asked.

"Hi Charlie, is the Quidditch match finished," she replied in answer.

"Um, no, the others are still going at it, but I'm done playing," he responded, as he walked upon the rock she was resting upon and took a seat next to her, just like he did the previous morning. "Is there any particular reason that you're here," he inquired, looking over at her.

"Do you want to be alone," Hermione questioned, hoping that she was not interfering with any time Charlie wanted to be by himself to bask in his own privacy.

"No, no, no," he said in a hurried manner, "I'm just surprised to see you here again is all."

"I like this place," Hermione commented back to him, looking around her at the protection the trees provided the two of them, "it feels like a completely different world in here than it does from the outside of here."

"I know what you mean," Charlie said, smiling proudly around his private spot, as he stretched back and placed his hands behind him for balance, "it's very calm in this place."

After several calm moments passed by, Hermione questioned, "Charlie, isn't the Quidditch game going to be uneven since you left?"

"Yep," he said simply, though he sounded as if that was the least of his worries, "but it's nothing too serious to worry about," he smirked. Hermione then noticed that his eyes drifted down to the open book in her lap. "Finished reading, have you?"

Hermione grinned but shook her head from side to side, replying, "No, I haven't finished reading yet. But I should finish by the end of the day."

"What're you reading, by the way?"

In answer, Hermione held up the book for Charlie to see the cover.

" _The Goblin Liberation Front of 1765_ ," he said aloud, his eyes scrunched together, "you must really like reading about goblins. Yesterday you were reading about their revolutions. How is it, by the way?"

At this, Hermione visibly changed, as her eyes lit up in excitement, while she straightened her posture, almost as if she was about to give a speech that was of utmost importance.

"It's captivating. I mean, there's so much in there that I've never even read over before," Hermione mused, "did you know that back in 1762, both the goblin leader and Minister of Magic accused one another of organizing assassination attempts against each other?"

Charlie smiled as he said, "I believe that was after a coup took place against the previous goblin leader and the previous Minister of Magic, in which both were overthrown and removed from power."

At his words, Hermione was taken aback momentarily. She stared over at him with wide eyes, while he stared back at her.

"What? Was that not right?"

"No, um, no, that was correct. You just surprised me is all," Hermione stammered. "Have you read about this before?"

"I glanced at it, if that's what you mean," he answered.

Hermione scoffed playfully as she replied, "One glance is all it takes for you to know something like that off the top of your head? You must have had a keen aptitude for History of Magic when you went to Hogwarts, then."

Charlie put up his hands in the air with a small shrug of his shoulders as he responded, "Well, I suppose I didn't get ten O.W.L.s for nothing, did I?"

"No, I suppose you didn't," Hermione laughed lightly.

After several quiet moments, Charlie asked, "So, have you picked up your dress robes yet for the Hogwarts' Banquet?"

"No," Hermione answered, looking over at him, "why?"

"I was thinking about taking a small trip over to Diagon Alley because I haven't got mine either," he said back to her. After a few seconds' hesitation, he quipped, "Do you think you would want to join me?"

Hermione thought about this, as she had initially planned to go and get fitted with Ginny, but something inside of her spurred her to instead go with Charlie.

"I'd like that," Hermione said, nodding her head, "I mean, honestly, Harry and Ron are going to wait until the last possible minute to go get their dress robes."

Charlie laughed, as he replied, "That definitely sounds like Ron."

Hermione rolled her eyes before she closed her book and questioned, "Did you want to go right now?"

Charlie nodded his head at her, as Hermione noted how much of a young boy he looked when he did so, before she remarked, "Okay, let me just go and put my book back and then we'll go."

"I'll join you," Charlie stated, as they both stood to their feet and walked off of the slab of rock and exited the milieu of Amata.

As the two headed for the Burrow, Hermione spotted five broomsticks flying in the air just above the tips of the trees of the orchard nearby.

After Charlie followed her gaze, he turned back to her and asked, "Can I ask you something, Hermione?"

"Sure," she said up to him.

"Why did you decline our offer to play Quidditch with us before?"

"Oh, I wanted to read instead," she said.

"But you could've read any other time, right," he asked.

"And you could've played Quidditch any other time," she shot back.

At her words, Charlie's eyes lit up with humor as he nodded his head, conceding that they were both on level ground with one another.

Hermione, however, thought to offer him the more practical reason of why she decided not to play Quidditch.

"Besides the teams being uneven, I don't really like to fly all that much," she offered.

At this, Charlie had stopped walking, making Hermione halt as well. She looked over at him and was surprised to see that his jaw was hanging open.

"What," Hermione questioned, her brows pulled together.

"You don't like to fly," he repeated is a somewhat slow manner, "I thought that Ron was joking when he said that earlier."

"No," Hermione stated, shaking her head from side to side, "he was right."

"Blimey," Charlie breathed out, "I don't think I ever met a witch or wizard that didn't like to fly."

"I'm sure there are plenty of witches and wizards that don't like it. Flying just isn't my type of thing, I guess. Even though it's uncomfortable, I rather prefer to apparate instead."

Charlie continued to stare over at Hermione in a stunned fashion, before a fleeting look of roguery crossed over his face, something that Hermione noticed, which made her feel uneasy as she had seen that look upon the faces of Fred and George numerous times, mainly after they had invented a new product that was ready to be tested.

"Perhaps I could change your mind, then," Charlie deliberated, his eye glinting with the burning sun.

"I don't think so," Hermione said at once, shaking her head again.

"You don't even know what I was going to say," he accused.

"You were going to suggest that you take me flying but that isn't going to happen," she stated in a matter-of-fact way, and with that, Hermione turned on her heel and continued her trek towards the Burrow.

From behind her, she heard Charlie sigh audibly, before he raced over to catch up with her.

"It really could change your mind, you know," he said, "It all depends on how much you've flown. I mean, I've met loads of people that didn't think all that much about flying until they've done it a couple of times."

"I think I flew more times than enough to know that I don't like to do it," Hermione replied.

"And how many times was enough for you," Charlie inquired.

Hermione thought about this before she answered, "Well, I had flying lessons all throughout first year with Madam Hooch, and I flew a couple of times after that. It's not just broomsticks I don't like to fly on…it's everything actually."

As the two neared the Burrow, Charlie said, "Just so you know, my offer will always stand."

Hermione turned her head to look at him as she responded, "About you taking me flying," to which Charlie nodded his head.

"Thank you, but I think I'll have to pass," she told him, as she entered back into the Weasley home with him hot on her heels.

However, after they had walked into the kitchen with Mrs. Weasley having spotted them, she said, "Oh Charlie, there you are! I meant to tell you this earlier: I recently met the mother of a young witch who lives not too far from here. Her name is Desmirelda Sprought, and I think you would be a right match for her! I believe her mother said that she was available tomorrow night, and I know that you are free as well. What do you say son?"

"Mum, please-," Charlie began, irritation seeping into his voice. Hermione, however, decided to quickly slip away from the kitchen, lest Mrs. Weasley turn to her next to act as her own romance arbitrator, as she rapidly made her way up the stairs, and into Ginny's room, where she placed her book about goblin liberation on her bed.

Hermione then turned around and dug into her trunk, before she extracted a small purple pouch which contained her wizard money so that she could pay for her dress robes. Hermione then exited Ginny's room and started to make her way down the stairs where she saw that Charlie was making his way up, skipping every other step. When he noticed her, he stopped the step below her, as she saw that he was wearing a harassed look upon his face.

"Thank you, Hermione, for leaving me down in the kitchen with my mother, the wonderful love affair moderator," he said with annoyance.

Hermione tried to suppress her grin but found that she could not, as it slowly slipped across her face; seeing this, she saw that Charlie's features softened as well.

"I told you that I had to put my book back," Hermione replied.

Charlie rolled his eyes at her, before she continued, "I'm sorry, Charlie, but you warned me the night before last that your mum might try to match me with someone as well. I didn't feel like taking that chance."

"Yes, well, you have the entire summer to try and dodge her probing but rest assured that my mother will make a beeline for anyone in sight," Charlie said with a huff. "So, shall we go to Diagon Alley, then?"

Hermione nodded her head at him, although she saw Charlie visibly tense. He looked down at his shoes, before he turned his head up towards Hermione.

"Uh, do you want to apparate together," he asked, holding out his hand for her to take.

Hermione looked down at him, his face reduced to a mixture of apprehension and a fair bit of shyness, which reduced his age below that of twenty-five.

She smiled down at him and said, "I'd like that," as she placed her hand in his. She instantly noticed that his hands were rough, with lingering calluses, while a tingling sensation raced up her arm, making her inwardly shiver. Charlie, however, gave no indication that he had felt anything out of the ordinary.

With one final, encouraging smile, Charlie and Hermione disapparated from the staircase of the Burrow with a small _POP_.

* * *

An instant later, Hermione found herself just beyond the brick wall that led back towards the Leaky Cauldron, with Charlie at her side.

"You ready," Charlie asked, as he nodded his head in front of him towards the bustling pace of Diagon Alley.

"Yeah," Hermione said, as they both started walking down the cobbled lane.

Hermione noticed that Diagon Alley was alive with color and vivaciousness, its windows glittering with a whole new shipment of supplies, which was a harsh contrast to the nearly soulless and gray days that had plagued it under Voldemort's reign of terror.

After the pair passed by a young boy licking away at three scoops of precariously-colored ice cream, both Hermione and Charlie suddenly noticed that heads started to turn towards them. Murmurs and whispers reached their ears, which steadily grew in strength and volume, while layaway conversations fell to death ears.

At this, Hermione ducked her head down towards her chest, with little wonder as to why everyone had stopped going about their daily shopping excursion: to take a look at one of the 'hero's' of the recently-finished war.

As more and more people started to point and stare over at her, Hermione quickened her pace, while her cheeks flushed with red. As a student at Hogwarts, Hermione didn't pay any attention to the stares and whispers people conducted behind her back, however, she now wasn't anywhere near comfortable with the amount of attention she was receiving. It made her fully aware that there were witches and wizards who knew much about her life, parts of which she rather people didn't know about.

Sensing her discomfort, Charlie placed an arm around Hermione's shoulders and pulled her against his strong frame in a purely platonic gesture, as if he was her own private guardian against the prying eyes and loose tongues of Diagon Alley, while he kept his head up in a defensive stance.

Additional undertones crossed over them, each word speaking about one of the decorated war heroes, painted by that of the Daily Prophet.

" _That's Hermione Granger, that is!_ "

" _She found alongside Harry Potter!_ "

After the two passed by the ever exuberant Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, they veered off to their right, and passed through the front door of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, as their entrance was signified by a jingle of a tiny bell.

Once inside, Charlie retracted his arm from Hermione's shoulders and she whispered a small, "Thanks."

Charlie nodded his head at her once in answer, before a small, plump witch decked in a purple gown dotted with moons and stars that hugged her knees, appeared from behind two ornately dressed mannequins. Hermione noticed that dozens of needles were sticking out of her crispy white hair was neatly layered atop her head, while her golden-framed glasses were perched on the bridge of her nose, and a yellow tape measure was worn around her neck in a scarf-like way.

Madam Malkin smiled over at Charlie, before she turned to Hermione, with whom she gave an even wider smile to.

"Hello, my dears, and welcome to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions! What can I do for the two of you today," she asked in a high-pitched, yet friendly voice.

"We're here to purchase dress robes for the Hogwarts' Banquet," Hermione answered, as she was thankful Madam Malkin made no comment in reference to Hermione's heroic deeds and the war.

"Of course, of course," she said, nodding her head, "many witches and wizards have already stopped by to pick up their robes!"

Madam Malkin then waved her wand as two clothes racks slid sideways, clearing an open space as two, small, white pedestal stands glided out from behind a nearby counter.

"On you get," the seamstress commanded, nodding her head towards the two stands.

As Hermione stood upon one and Charlie on the other, a folding mirror expanded in front of them, as Madam Malkin first went over to Hermione and inquired, "Now, my dear, what should we do with you?"

Madam Maklin circled Hermione two times, her index finger tapping her chin in deep thought, while her eyes examined her.

After a moment, she exclaimed, "Ah! I know just the trick!"

With another wave of her wand, the tape measure unwound itself from around her neck, and flew over to Hermione, measuring her waist, her arm length, and her collar. Then, four needles flew out of her layered hair while an entanglement of sapphire blue threads dashed over from a close by shelf as the two spun together.

After not even one minute of waiting, a shimmering sapphire blue, dress appeared before their eyes, hovering in front of Hermione.

She gazed at it with wide eyes by way of the mirror as she breathed, "It's beautiful."

"Yes, my dear, and I assure you that it would work well with you," Madam Malkin stated proudly.

Charlie was staring over at Hermione's dress, with his mouth hanging open slightly, though Hermione didn't seem to notice, as she continued to look over her garb. Madam Malkin made her way over to Charlie, yet he was still assessing his partner in a daze. To get his attention, the seamstress's tape measure slapped Charlie across the face.

Snapping out of his stunned fantasy, Charlie remarked, "Hey, what did you do that for?!"

"Less gawking and more dressing," Madam Malkin replied in a curt tone, making Charlie's face grow bright red.

As it did with Hermione, the tape measure wound itself around Charlie, taking different measurements of him, while four more needles flew out of Madam Malkin's layered hair, as black thread staring to spin together, before a plain, black suit formed, complimented with a blue vest and bow tie. The fancy robes drifted in front of Charlie as he stood before the mirror.

"Those will go great with your eyes, my dear," Madam Malkin said, nodding towards the vest and bow tie.

"What? Oh, um, thanks," Charlie replied, the tips of his ears now taking its own turn of growing bright red.

"So how do you like them," Madam Malkin asked, looking at both Hermione and Charlie. "Did you want me to make any adjustments?"

"They're perfect," Hermione commented, looking over at Charlie's attire and nodding her head in satisfaction.

"Yeah," Charlie added, catching Hermione's eye, "they're great."

"Excellent! Let me package these for you, my dears, and you can be on your way," the seamstress remarked, clapping her hands together cheerfully. She then strolled away from them, as her tape measure wrapped around her neck once more, as Hermione and Charlie's dress robes floated after her. Walking behind her counter, two white boxes floated on top of it from a bottom-layered shelf, as the two dressing gowns began folding itself neatly inside the packages, as a thin sheet of paper laid itself atop of each one.

"That'll be thirty galleons," Madam Malkin told them, as Hermione and Charlie made their way towards her.

As Hermione reached for her pouch, Charlie said, "I got it, Hermione."

Her head snapped towards his as she replied, "It's alright; I can pay for my own."

"No, really, I'll pay for yours," Charlie reiterated.

Hermione, however, was having none of his insistence. "Charlie, I'm perfectly capable of paying for my own robes."

"I know you are," he responded, "but let me pay for yours. You can pay for mine next time."

"Next time," Hermione asked, making Charlie's face burn for a third time.

"Hermione, just let me pay," Charlie said patiently yet again.

Hermione huffed, making Charlie grin, as he dug deep into his pockets and shelled out the necessary monies and handed it over to Madam Malkin.

She took it from him, saying, "Thank you, my dear," as Charlie nodded his head at her, took both packages off of the counter, and sauntered over to the front door.

As Hermione made to follow him, Madam Malkin's voice stopped her, as she said, "That one's a keeper."

Hermione looked back at her, as the seamstress gave her a wink.

"Oh, we're not dating," Hermione told her softly.

"I know that, dear, but he is quite the gentleman, and trust me when I say that those are hard to find."

Before Hermione could reply, Charlie's voice called out, "Are you coming, Hermione?"

"Thank you," Hermione told Madam Malkin softly, giving her a small smile, before she walked away from her, and towards Charlie.

After the door of the shop closed on them, Charlie offered, "I was thinking about stopping by the Leaky Cauldron for a spot of lunch. D'you care to join me?"

"I'd like that," Hermione started, "but on one condition."

"Oh yeah," Charlie said, his eyebrows shooting upward in surprise, as a certain joyfulness swept over his facial features, "and what's that?"

"That I pay for the both of us."

Charlie rolled his eyes, and shook his head from side to side, inquiring, "You're not upset that I paid for your dress robes, are you?"

"I'm not upset," Hermione stated, as the pair started to make their way towards their destination, "It's just that I'm perfectly able to pay for my own things."

"I know you are," Charlie responded easily, "but it was just a nice gesture on my part."

"Well, thank you for that, anyway," Hermione told him calmly.

"Don't worry about it," he said back, "it wasn't a big deal."

As the pair reached the brick wall that would lead them towards the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione took out her wand and tapped the correct brick that would grant them entrance to the pub.

She stood back as the brick wall began to morph into an archway, which both Hermione and Charlie walked under a moment later. After passing by the Leaky Cauldron's small courtyard with a single dustbin, the pair went inside.

Walking over the tavern's wooden floors, Charlie led Hermione over to Tom, the landlord, as he pointed out to Hermione the Leaky Cauldron's menu, which was on a board that was plastered against one wall. While she looked over the menu, she could nearly feel Tom's eyes on her, but she ignored it.

"I'll have the lamb chop stew," Charlie said, looking over at Tom.

"Good choice, sir," Tom responded, nodding his head in understanding, before he turned to look at Hermione and asked, "And what would you like?"

"I think I'd like to have the vegetable soup," Hermione told him, in which Tom nodded his head again.

However, before he could turn away, Charlie asked, "Also, do you have here the Wales Thunder Cider?"

"Certainly," Tom replied, as Hermione looked over at Charlie in puzzlement.

"Great, I'll take two glasses of it, then," Charlie said, ignoring Hermione's questioning glances.

Tom waved his wand as two tall glasses flew down from an overhead rack, while a thin, glassed bottle soared over from the bar area, as the gold-covered container started to pour its contents into each glass.

"Your food will be ready shortly," Tom told them, as Hermione and Charlie each took one glass, "and sit wherever you'd like; we're not too busy right now."

"Thanks," they both replied, walking away from the counter, and choosing a table towards the center of the pub.

"So, what drink is this," Hermione asked, picking up the Wales Thunder Cider in her hand, after both she and Charlie settled down across from one another.

"It's an extremely popular drink in the wizarding community in Wales," Charlie told her, "when I visited the Ministry last month to check on some paperwork for the new dragon reserve, I heard that they were trying to restrict the drink from entering into England."

"Why would they do that," Hermione questioned.

Charlie shrugged his shoulders as he answered, "Something about unfair export costs, but clearly they haven't been able to stop it from coming over here. Try it, though, it's delicious!"

Hermione tentatively took a small sip of the Wales Thunder Cider, before an incredibly strong citrus flavor burst into her mouth shortly afterwards, taking her by surprise.

"It's good, isn't it," Charlie reasoned, seeing the look upon Hermione's face.

"It certainly is flavorful," Hermione retorted, before taking another small sip.

Charlie nodded his head in agreement, before he took a long swig. After he swallowed it, he looked over at Hermione as he asked, "So, I saw you talking to Ron earlier this morning."

"You're quite perceptive, aren't you," she teased with good humor.

"Trust me, I try to be," he shot back, as Hermione rolled her eyes. "Did you tell him how you feel then?"

"I tried to," Hermione began, "but I just couldn't do it. I don't know what's wrong with me. Maybe I'm afraid of hurting Ron, as I guess I'm a bit inexperienced when talking about my feelings."

"Inexperienced," Charlie echoed in a question-like stance.

Hermione nodded as she said in a quiet voice, "I haven't exactly had many relationships. Dating is rather new to me."

"But you aren't dating," Charlie reasoned slowly, crossing his arms over his chest, as his eyebrows pulled together.

"I know, but I think it's the whole atmosphere of it, that I'm not used to."

"Atmosphere," Charlie repeated again, as if he tasting the feel of it, "I've never heard anyone describe relationships and feelings like that before."

"Well, I guess there's a first time for everything, isn't there," Hermione retorted.

After Charlie barked out a laugh, both he and Hermione heard his name call out from nearby.

They both turned to see a young man walking over to them, a wide smile upon his face. To Hermione, this man looked to be in the same age range as Charlie, though his physical appearance was very different: he was taller than Charlie by about half a head, while he had light-brown hair that was slightly longer than Charlie's fiery red as it flopped across his forehead, as he also had a rather small nose. He was tan and muscular with wide shoulders, though not quite as brawny as the second-eldest Weasley son, while it seemed as if he sported several burns that covered his arms.

"Phillip," Charlie phrased as a question, standing to his feet. "What're you doing here?" Hermione noted though that Charlie didn't seem at all excited.

"I'm visiting my dad, mate," Phillip replied, "what d'ya expect? He lives right off of Abbey Road."

"Aren't you on schedule to be at the reserve?"

"Well, Director Mulligan also gave me a few days off. Did ya see this, Char," Phillip continued holding out his arms, as Hermione saw Charlie outwardly cringe at his supposed nickname, "I got scorched!"

"Is that why you got some time off," Charlie questioned, looking down at his fellow worker's burn marks, as he didn't seem to be surprised.

"Maybe, but I'm not entirely sure," Phillip replied, shrugging his shoulders. His brown eyes then fell upon Hermione, as he turned back to Charlie and inquired none too quietly, "Who's this bird ya got here, Char?"

"She's a friend of mine," Charlie replied darkly, "her name is Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is Phillip Soren. He and I were in the same year at Hogwarts and he works with me back at the reserve in Romania."

Hermione stood to her feet as she said politely, "Oh, it's nice to meet you."

"Definitely not as nice to meet ya, 'Mione!" This time, it was Hermione's turn to recoil at her new nickname, while Charlie scowled.

"Ya don't mind if I call ya ''Mione, do ya," Phillip asked upon seeing her reaction.

"Well," Hermione hesitated, "my name is actually Her-,"

"Great! I knew ya wouldn't mind," Phillip replied cheerfully, cutting Hermione off, as a slight pause followed.

"Right," Charlie commented to fill in the awkwardness, "listen Phillip, did you need something in particular?"

"Well Char, I didn't plan on telling ya this 'til you got back to Romania, but Director Mulligan asked if I wanted to work on the new dragon reserve in Wales with ya," Phillip said in a fast manner, "and I said 'yes'!"

"That's great," Charlie remarked, though without any enthusiasm.

Apparently, Phillip didn't notice as he responded, "It is, ain't it! We can still work together! If I'm to be honest with ya, I personally can't wait to see the new dragons they found over there in Canada! Isn't it odd that we never heard from them Canadians all too much, but all of a sudden they discover a new dragon species?"

"Imagine that," Charlie responded half-heartedly.

"So when ya headin' back," Phillip questioned with a smile, as he placed his hands on his hips, highly enjoying his friendly chat.

"Um," Charlie started, taking a quick look at Hermione, "in a couple of days."

Hermione looked over at Charlie in mild surprise. While she knew that he had to return to Romania for a week, she found that she wasn't at all looking forward to him being gone.

"Ah, just in time to tie up some loose ends," Phillip observed, peeking over at Hermione and nodding his head in comprehension.

Just as Charlie opened his mouth to respond, his and Hermione's lunch plates suddenly nudged Phillip gently against his back.

"What the-," he started, looking behind him.

"Oh, our lunch is here," Charlie stated, as their plates gently settled itself down upon their table. "Phillip, it was nice seeing you," he said in a slightly dismissive tone.

"Yeah, I should let ya two enjoy your lunches, then. 'Mione, it was great to meet you," Phillip declared, nodding his head towards Hermione, "and I'll see ya next week at the reserve, Char."

With that, Phillip turned on his heel and walked away from their table.

"Sorry about him," Charlie told Hermione, "I didn't think he would be here."

"I like him," Hermione said freely, "but it seems like you don't."

"Let's just say that he and I haven't been on good terms for some time now," Charlie replied rather cryptically.

"Did something happen," Hermione asked curiously.

"Yeah, something happened, but if you don't mind, I don't think I want to talk about it right now."

Hermione nodded her head, her interest in Phillip heightened dramatically. "He seems nice, though."

"Sure, he's nice and all, but he seems to have a few floorboards loose up here," Charlie replied, drumming his index finger against his head. "Some of the reserve workers think that Phillip might've taken too many hits by a dragon's tail one too many times. I guess it isn't really his fault, though."

"That's probably not practical when working on a dragon reserve, is it," she questioned.

"No, it's not. You see, Phillip is the type of bloke who gets over-excited easily which isn't a good combination when working with dragons. Those burns on his arms are proof of that. I remember his first day on the job, he nearly got himself killed. If it wasn't for my best mate Terrance, you most likely never would've met Phillip just now."

They were both silent for several moments as they started digging into their lunches. After some time, Hermione asked, "Is it true that you're returning to Romania soon?"

"Yeah, it'll be soon after the Hogwarts' Banquet, actually" he replied with a sigh. "But, it'll only be for a week, and then I'll be back."

Hermione nodded her head at him, though she couldn't quite shake the feeling that she felt quite melancholy with Charlie's imminent departure. For some reason that she couldn't place, Hermione had felt relaxed around Charlie, more so than she ever thought was possible. She had grown accustomed to his companionship over the past few days and she liked talking with him.

After sighing inwardly to herself, Hermione and Charlie ate the rest of their lunch in peace, discussing the various dragons that were waiting for Charlie's return to Romania.


	4. Jewels of the Terrain

Hello all! Here is Chapter 4 for your enjoyment. Chapter 5 will be posted this Sunday afternoon. Thanks for reading.

* * *

Chapter 4: Jewels of the Terrain

Hermione, Harry, and Ron were walking back from Headmistress McGonagall's office, as she and the Minister Shacklebolt, wanted a short, but private word with the three of them before the Hogwarts' Banquet was set to take place.

The trio was told that the celebration was meant to honor the dead, but it was also held to serve as a celebration for the end of the war, and the end of Voldemort. It was a fine line to waltz upon, yet it was expected and needed. The banquet, according to Kingsley, is designated to the mark the end of a vile and oppressive regime; it is intended as the first step forward as a new era dawns upon the magical community in Great Britain…a sobering reality of what power could do to a populace, whether they were magical or not.

No medals of honor, or Orders of Merlin, were to be bestowed that night, as Hermione, Harry, and, to a lesser extent, Ron, had outright refused to accept them, while the Ministry of Magic was uncomfortable awarding others this special decoration when the trio that had brought about the fall of Voldemort did not want the endowment.

Hermione looked around her as they walked down a lone corridor, noticing that the halls of Hogwarts were now fixed and looked as good as if a major battle had not ever taken place mere months ago. As their shadows chased them, she looked over to her right, at Harry, as she was worried about him and how he would be during this night, a night when much of the attention would be focused on him.

He seemed to notice her staring, for he took a quick peek over at her, before he refocused his gaze straight ahead of him, and said rather quietly, "I'll be okay."

"You know, Ron and I will be right by your side," Hermione told him in a comforting manner.

At this, Harry smiled as he responded, "Thanks…I appreciate it."

"If you want to think about this positively, it'll all be over in a couple of hours, and then afterwards, we can all leave," Hermione added on.

"Is that how long this banquet is going to go on for…a couple of hours," Ron questioned in a somewhat tense tone, looking over at Hermione.

"I assume so…why," she replied with a question of her own.

"These bloody shoes are suffocating my feet," he answered with a grimace. "And the collar of my dress robes isn't much better."

Hermione looked down at Ron's feet, and said, "Well, your shoes do look a size too small for you, Ron. Didn't you try them on before you bought them?"

"I did! When I tried them on back in Madam Malkin's shop, they fit perfectly fine," Ron proclaimed, now wincing with every step he took.

"Here, stop for a moment and I'll fix them for you," Hermione stated in a harrowed manner, not wanting to hear Ron complain the rest of the night. She took out her wand from a small pocket Mrs. Weasley had added to her sapphire blue dress, and gave it a small flick. With this, Ron's shoes swelled to a larger size.

"Thanks, Hermione," Ron said, sighing in relief.

"No problem," she responded, nodding her head, as they three of them set off again.

After a quick moment's silence, Ron asked, "Say Hermione, why didn't you come with Harry and me to get dress robes?"

At his query, Harry looked over at Hermione, as he also seemed genuinely interested in her response.

"Honestly," Hermione began with a mild huff, "I didn't exactly feel like waiting until the last minute to get my dress robes."

"We didn't wait 'til the last minute," Ron protested.

"Ron, you just picked up your dress robes two hours ago," Hermione exclaimed.

Ron opened his mouth to fire back, but Harry cut him off and said, "Ron, just drop it…Hermione's right."

Ron then started grumbling incoherently under his breath, making Hermione roll her eyes.

As the trio turned a corner, Harry commented, "Hogwarts seems so different now; it doesn't feel like it did before."

"I know how you feel mate," Ron remarked, before he looked over at Hermione and said, "I don't know how you could come back here and all."

"I don't know if I will come back," Hermione observed, as she noticed both Harry and Ron's eyes widened considerably.

"That's a bit out-of-character of you, isn't it," Ron stated.

"Perhaps, but Harry is right: something seems to be off regarding Hogwarts. The last time we were here, a war was taking place and so much of the castle was destroyed. This is the first time we've been back since the battle and that's why it feels different – in the back of our minds, I think we expected to walk back into the rubble."

Harry nodded his head at Hermione's words, as he extended softly, "It doesn't even feel like home to me anymore."

Hermione once again looked over at him and saw that a sad expression was plastered across his face, while the low-burning flames from evenly-placed stone pedestals danced within his bright, green eyes, like a fog smothering a trove of jewels.

"Well, have you thought about getting a place of your own," Hermione inquired over to Harry.

Before he could respond, Ron interjected, "A place of his own? What's wrong with staying at the Burrow?"

Hermione turned towards Ron and explained, "There's nothing with staying at the Burrow, but it's just that maybe it's time to get a place of our own."

"You mean, like, the three of us," Ron asked, pointing his finger around at all of them in turn.

"I was thinking along the lines of separately, actually," Hermione muttered.

"I have been thinking about it," Harry started, seeming to have not heard of Ron and Hermione's brief, side-along conversation, "maybe just like a small flat of my own in London, near the Ministry so it'll be easier to get to when I start Auror training."

"I didn't even think about being near to the Ministry," Ron said after Harry, "maybe we can room together, Harry!"

Harry looked over at Ron with a grin across his face, replying, "Shall we decorate it like Gryffindor Tower?"

The three of them laughed, carefree and unhinged, as they descended the stone staircase into the Entrance Hall.

After they did so, a low undercurrent of voices greeted them from the open front doors of the Great Hall, numerous conversations coupled with one another. The trio slowed their pace, as their smiles slowly evaporated from their faces, as a mountain of hesitation raced through them.

Mere steps away, Hermione saw a flick of panic cross Harry's features. In response, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it, trying to pass along as much comfort as she could with a gentle, but firm touch. For his part, Ron came up on Harry's other side and placed an encouraging hand upon his shoulder.

In this moment, no words were spoken between the three of them, as no words were needed.

Harry nodded his head once, as if he was giving himself some internal support, before he gave a deep breath and walked forward, with Hermione and Ron flanking his two sides.

Upon entering the hall, Hermione saw that the regular four house tables had been replaced with a dozen round tables, as a fine white cloth settled over it that seated ten people. The staff table had been kept in place, situated before the large window as it always had been, as she saw that three open seats were unoccupied to the right of Headmistress McGonagall's chair, while Minister Shacklebolt sat on her left. Hermione also saw that small, light blue orbs were floating all around the hall, as a single burning candle was placed inside each one, casting the grand area into a bluish-yellow glow.

It was then that Hermione noted that dead silence had befallen the occupants of the Great Hall, as the trio continued to make their way forward after seeing McGonagall beckon them towards her. Their footsteps echoed loudly off of the stone floor, sounding to Hermione like hammers striking gongs, reverberating loudly against her eardrums.

She could feel the eyes of everyone trained upon her, Harry, and Ron, penetrating them with their burning gazes. To block out the attention, she focused in on the happiest face she could see, which was that of Hagrid's, who was wearing his unfortunate thick, hairy brown coat, as he sat at one end of the staff table, his bulky frame representing that of a small hill.

After passing a table that had been taken over by the Weasley clan, the trio finally reached the staff table after what nearly felt like an eternity to Hermione. Harry sat down next to McGonagall, as Hermione sat next to him, and Ron beside her.

Once they had settled down, McGonagall stood to her feet and welcomed everyone to the Hogwarts' Banquet. Hermione, however, couldn't find it in herself to pay much attention, which was very unlike her. Throughout her time at Hogwarts, she was never easily swayed from listening to what a professor was saying, as she strongly believed in authority, even though she must've broken dozens of school rules whilst on her escapades with Harry and Ron.

Catching the words of 'bravery' and 'remembrance,' Hermione found her mind drifting out to open waters. She looked upon the hall and saw the eyes of everyone in the vicinity trained upon the staff table. Her gaze then wandered over to the Weasleys, where she spotted Charlie, his arm resting upon the back of Ginny's chair. However, his eyes weren't on McGonagall, but instead, they were on her.

She held his gaze, as his sea blue eyes seemed to transport Hermione out of the walls of Hogwarts, over to an exotic location of a distant, faraway land. There was something about his eyes that was friendly, yet also intimidating. Hermione assumed that the latter look came from the hardships of wrangling around with dragons on a daily basis. Her eyes swiftly roamed over his black dress robes, complimented by its blue vest and bow tie, while his short, bright red hair was combed off to one side. She didn't know how long she had been staring over at Charlie nor he at her, but with a loud round of applause, she was brought out of her stupor and joined in, breaking a transparent spell the two of them had silently engaged in.

After McGonagall sat down, food appeared upon every table, much like it did during the Hogwarts' opening feast, as everyone started to dive in. Ron in particular, nearly roared his approval before his hand shot out at every possible plate near him with the speed of light.

Soon, the low rumble from many different discussions filled the Great Hall. While Ron had a chicken wing in each hand, taking turns to bite each one, Hermione saw that Harry kept shooting glances over at the Weasleys.

She leaned in closer to him, minding Ron on the other side of her as bits and pieces of chicken flew in every single direction, "You're being too obvious, you know."

Harry looked over at her and tried to feign confusion as he replied, "What d'you mean?"

"Oh, don't be silly, Harry," Hermione began, shaking her head from side to side, "how blind do you think I am? I know you're looking over at Ginny."

"Well, I suppose that it's not any secret that I still have feelings for her," Harry sighed, taking another quick look at Ginny, who was now conversing with Charlie; the two of them were laughing.

"Why don't you at least start talking to her, then? Ever since the war ended, you've been avoiding her, Harry."

Now it was Harry's turn to shake his head, responding, "I can't…at least, now right now. I'm still trying to get over everything that happened, Hermione."

At this, Hermione set down her fork and knife, and said, "Harry, I know you've spent a lot of time alone these past couple of months, and even though there's nothing wrong with that," she pressed on, as Harry had opened his mouth to object, "you have people around you that care for you and your well-being. Everyone is healing from their own scars left behind from the war. Trust me, I was just like you before."

"Then what changed," Harry asked.

Unbeknownst to her, Hermione's eyes flickered over to Charlie.

"A friend of mine helped me," she said simply.

"A friend of yours," Harry repeated, as he followed her line of sight. "You mean Charlie?"

Hermione nodded her head in silence, before she said with a small shrug of her shoulders, "I've been talking with him recently."

Harry took his turn to nod his head in understanding as he replied, "But how is it possible for Ginny to want someone like me?"

"Harry, what are you talking about? There is nothing wrong with you…there's nothing wrong with any of us. All we're doing is trying to piece back together our lives."

"It's not that simple, knowing how much has already changed," Harry stated back.

Hermione was silent for a moment, considering his words.

"You're right, it's not going to be easy, but that is exactly why we need each other," Hermione nearly whispered.

As Harry took another look over at Ginny, he said, "There's something about her, Hermione – it just feels so different. Back when I first met her, she couldn't even say anything to me, do you remember? I guess over time, there was something about her that caught my attention."

Hermione smiled, remembering her conversation she had with Charlie nearly a week ago, when they were talking about sparks between two people. It was evident that Harry had felt it with Ginny, and she of him.

"I know how you still feel about her, Harry. Just go back to her only when you feel like it's the right time. There's no need to rush into anything."

Harry shot Hermione a warm smile in appreciation, before he changed topics and asked, "I know we already talked about mine, but how do you feel about your living situations?"

Once again, Hermione's eyes flitted over to Charlie, who was now laughing at something Fred was telling him, before she turned her attention back on Harry, and answered, "Well, the Burrow is comfortable, but I'm thinking about getting a place of my own, too. Probably somewhere near the Ministry, like you."

"If you don't come back to Hogwarts, have you thought about which department you would want to work in?"

"Either in the Department for Magical Law Enforcement or the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," Hermione said back.

"Well no matter which department you choose, I'm sure you'll do great," Harry told her confidently, in which Hermione smiled back at him. "Also, have you thought about going to get your parents yet?"

"I have, but I'm still not sure when I'll go and get them."

"You shouldn't wait too long, Hermione."

At this words, she looked over at Harry with a quizzical look before he explained, "Even though I never met your parents, I know that you're really close to them. I can't imagine it's easy for you when they're so far away."

"I know," Hermione responded, nodding her head, "I just need some more time to figure my life out before I restore their memories."

After a long minute, Harry suddenly leaned in closer to Hermione and whispered, "By the way, thank you for coming with me to Godric's Hollow last Christmas…it meant a lot."

Small tears pooled into Hermione's eyes, obscuring her brown irises, as she remembered the intimate night the two of them visited his parents' graves. It was a moment neither of them had brought up until now, for it was special for both of them. A strong moment of friendship cloaked itself around the pair that night; it was so fragile and innocent, that a mere crack would crumble its walls of solitude. It was not to be observed, but to be remembered.

Beyond several more minutes of eating, Kingsley took his turn to stand to his feet and gave a speech himself about rebuilding their community after so much had been taken from them, along with stressing the importance of remembering everyone who had died during the war, and making sure they did not do so in vain. He continued on by saying that it is important for everyone to continue to live their lives to the fullest, and to celebrate a day that will be legendary to the wizarding community in the future.

As Kingsley's final words rang around the hall, he waved his wand, conjuring a makeshift dance floor, made of golden tiles, to appear out of thin air in the midst of the dozen round tables, paired with an unmanned orchestra, for the guests to celebrate the end of Voldemort to cap off the evening.

As a beautiful, harmonious tune began, people started to grab their respective partners and pull them towards the center of the Great Hall. Hermione smiled when she saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley make their way over, as Ron turned to her and inquired, "Hermione, can I talk to you outside for a bit?"

This caught Hermione off guard, but she soon said, "Y-Yes, of course."

The pair of them then stood to their feet, walked along the staff table, and proceeded to make their way towards the exit.

As Hermione followed Ron by passing the Weasley-laden table, Fred called out, "Oi, Granger!"

She turned to look at the twins as George asked with a wicked gleam in his eyes, "Has Ronniekins been complaining about his shoes at all?"

"He did, but that was before I changed them. What did you do to them?"

"We only made them a size too small," Fred answered with an innocent look on his face, while George sniggered.

"That, and we might've put some itching powder around his collar," George added.

"Is there any reason why you keep picking on him," Hermione questioned.

Fred and George looked at one another, before they turned back to her, and said in unison, "Because he's our brother!"

Hermione scoffed as she said, "Oh yes, how silly of me? That's a great reason!" She then shook her head from side to side, before she caught sight of Charlie. He was looking over at her, humor lining his face.

Without another word, Hermione walked away from their table, made her way out of the Great Hall, and joined Ron, who had since gone outside.

Hermione felt the cool, late summer air settle around her, as the sloping grounds of Hogwarts appeared like black shadows. Some ways away, she could barely make out Hagrid's Hut as it seemed to fade away under the dark night.

Hermione looked over at Ron expectantly, who in turn, seemed to be engaged in an internal struggle.

"Ron, what is it?"

He sighed loudly, before he asked bluntly, "Hermione, where are we?"

Ron's question made her inwardly groan, as she knew this conversation was inevitable, yet she wouldn't have minded holding it off for another couple of days.

"I don't know," she said truthfully after several long moments, snaking her arms over her chest, "where do you think we are?"

"I don't know either," he responded, "I mean, I thought I did during the final battle when you kissed me, but it seems like over these past couple of months since then, you've been keeping away from me."

"Ron, that isn't entirely true," Hermione started, before she stopped. In her mind, she thought about the reality of where she stood concerning Ron. While it was true that she still wanted to remain friends with him, she was positive that she didn't want to be in a relationship with him. Would he accept one or the other, or would he give her an ultimatum? Hermione decided that she would take the plunge.

"Ron, you and I have known each other for a long time, and since then, we've fought and argued constantly…more times than is usual. Even though we got along, there were more times when we didn't."

"I knew you would say something like that," Ron commented, looking over at her. "You know, I did like you, more than a friend at one time, but I think you're right. I guess that shouldn't be surprising, right?"

Hermione smiled halfheartedly, yet she couldn't help but feeling bad.

"Can I ask you something," Ron inquired.

"Sure," Hermione said, nodding her head at him.

"Why did you kiss me during the final battle?"

"You made that comment about saving the house-elves and honestly, I didn't even know if we were going to survive the night," she told him openly. "There was a time I did like you too, more than a friend, but after everything we've been through together and with Harry, I only think of you as a brother."

Ron nodded his head, while a sad smile crept over his face.

"Nothing more, then," he questioned, his voice resounding with an ounce of hopefulness.

Hermione paused, and gulped loudly, before she took a calming breath, and said, while giving her head a soft shake, "I'm sorry, Ron, but nothing more."

They both dropped their heads at the same time, as the two of them suddenly found the grass beneath their shoes all the more interesting than their conversation.

After silence had penetrated the air between them for several long minutes, Ron phrased, "Everything is going to be different now, isn't it?"

"Ron, we said this before-," but he cut her off.

"No, I mean, everything is going to be different between the two of us."

Hermione remained quiet as she knew what he meant yet couldn't really think of anything comforting to say.

Ron continued, "We'll grow apart, won't we?"

As Hermione panged with hurt, she said, "Ron, just because we aren't in a relationship doesn't mean that we can't remain friends and stop seeing each other."

"It won't be like Hogwarts anymore, where we'll see each other every day," he countered.

"I know," she whispered.

Without another word, Hermione then flung her arms around Ron's neck and gave him a fierce hug. After a short moment of shock, she felt his arms wrap around her, hugging her back.

When they pulled apart, Hermione looked into Ron's eyes and gave him a smile, one that didn't reach her eyes. For his part, he grinned back.

"As long as we remain friends, I'll be okay with that," Ron proclaimed, "deal?"

"Deal," Hermione responded, giving a small laugh.

Ron breathed out a sigh of relief as he then suggested, "So do you want to head back inside?"

"You go ahead," Hermione relented, "I'll be right in."

Ron looked over at her weirdly and asked, "Are you sure?"

Hermione nodded her head, giving him another smile.

Ron nodded as he then departed away from Hermione, leaving her alone in the darkness of the castle's grounds.

Hermione felt as though a massive weight had been lifted off of her shoulders, yet inside, she felt lonely. It was a precarious feeling to her, seeing that she hadn't even been dating Ron, but it almost felt as if the two of them had ended their friendship.

'Of course it isn't true,' Hermione thought to herself, as she walked away from the castle's open front doors, the hem of sapphire blue her dress gliding over the grass, 'but then why does it feel like it?'

Ron's words had rung true in her ears when he said that 'it won't be like Hogwarts anymore.' They were all starting their own lives, and it was natural that they were going to grow apart. Hermione knew that in the back of her mind; after all, it was a logical progression, yet she tended not to think of it.

Ron was a friend to her, and had been for the better part for seven years. 'Would he be for the next seven years,' Hermione mentally asked herself.

As a small wind overtook her, blowing around her straightened hair thanks to Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, Hermione realized that she had wandered down to the shores of the Black Lake. The branches of the beech tree situated beside her creaked ominously, while small waves rippled across the lake's surface. Hermione looked before her and saw that the stars shining up above were reflected deep into the waters, looking like buried treasure that had long ago sunk into the depths of a bottomless terrain.

Hermione once again crossed her arms over her chest just as she heard heavy footfalls somewhere behind her.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Hagrid was making his way back towards his hut, whistling a merry tune, carrying a plate piled high with food in his hands. She watched him open the door to his home to a barking Fang, before he closed it behind him. A moment later, bright lights shone out of the hut's windows, excelling against the dark back drop of the Forbidden Forest beyond, while displaying small squares of yellow down upon the ground, as small puffs of smoke began emitting from its chimney.

For an unexplainable reason, Hermione found her feet carrying her over to the now-alive circular hut. Reaching the door, she knocked against it, making Fang bark again, as Hagrid opened the door a second later.

His surprised expression soon turned into a cheerful one, as he said, "'ello, Hermione! Yeh look nice!"

"Thanks, Hagrid," she said, giving him a warm smile. For her, the last time she saw Hagrid was right after the final battle, as she had given him a hug when celebrating victory.

"Well, come in, come in," he told her, waving his large, mitten-covered hand.

As he closed the door behind her, Hagrid turned and said, "I must say tha' I'm surprised to see yeh here. Though' you'd be up in the Great Hall an' all, enjoying the celebration!"

"Truthfully, I don't feel much like celebrating right now," she said, sitting down in an over-large chair.

"What's wrong," the half-giant asked in concern, as Fang continued to scarf down the plate of food Hagrid had brought for him, taking little interest in the hut's intruder.

"I don't know…I guess it's just that everything's changing and I'm not entirely sure what to do anymore. I thought that with the war now over, things would become easier but in reality, they're harder. For example, everyone expects me to return to Hogwarts to complete my education, and part of me wants to, but another part of me doesn't."

Hermione was about to continue on and tell him about Ron to ask him what he made of it, but decided to hold back on that matter.

As Hagrid placed a large plate of rock cakes in front of her, pulling it seemingly out of nowhere, he said, "Now, Hermione, I kno' yeh value yer education an' all, but don' yer think you should do somethin' else for a change…somethin' you wan' to do?"

"That's what Char – that's what I've been told," Hermione said, not wanting to raise any questions involving any of the Weasley sons right now.

"You can onl' live up to other people's expectations for so long. Sometimes, yer might think yer making the wrong decision, onl' to realize after some time that yeh actually made the right' one."

"But some decisions feel right and some of them feel wrong; nothing is clear about it," Hermione said to him. "This isn't like me, Hagrid. I'm the one that is supposed to know everything. I already planned the rest of my life out, but now, it all seems like a fantasy...just some rubbish written down on a piece of parchment."

"Now listen, Hermione, I'm goin' ter tell yeh what me dad told me after I was framed by tha' Tom Riddle," Hagrid said rather sternly. "He said: 'Do wha' yeh feel like will make a difference, for whether if it's the righ' or wrong decision, we could always use a little change, even if we don' know we do.'"

After she let his words sink in, something came to her. There, in Hagrid's Hut, on the night of the Hogwarts' Banquet, did Hermione make a decision that would change her life forever.


	5. Domestication

Hello all! Here is Chapter 5 for your enjoyment. Chapter 6 will be posted late Thursday night. Thanks for reading!

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Chapter 5: Domestication

The morning following the Hogwarts' Banquet, Hermione awoke bright and early. Sitting up in her bed and stretching her arms high over her wild mane of hair, she gave a wide yawn. She stood to her feet and quietly made her way over to the sole window in Ginny's room. A small frown formed over her face, however, when she saw that the skies outside were of a dull grey, rather than a blissful morning blue.

Turning away from the glassed pane, Hermione started to make her way out of the bedroom, when she accidentally stepped upon a loose floorboard, making it scream with an almighty creak. She froze in place, as Ginny grunted, jumbling her words over one another, before she turned over on her side, away from Hermione, who let out a long breath she did not know she had been holding in. Grabbing her bag of toiletries, she headed for the bathroom.

Not even five minutes later, Hermione made her way down the unbalanced staircase of the Burrow, trying to be a silent as possible, for she suspected that many, if not all, of the towering home's occupants were still fast asleep.

Walking into the kitchen, Hermione stopped short when she saw Charlie sitting at the table, pouring over a piece of parchment that was part of a rather large pile, a quill in his hand, while a steaming cup of tea was set before him.

Hermione supposed that she shouldn't have been all that surprised as Charlie had told her before that was an early riser – in fact, most of the workers on the dragon reserve back in Romania were. Inwardly, Hermione also felt pleased to see Charlie as she actually cherished her talks with him; it was like they were having their own private rendezvous no one else could be a part of.

Sensing a presence from somewhere behind him, Charlie looked up from his paperwork and turned to gaze over his shoulder. When his sea blue eyes found Hermione, he gave her a warm smile and asked with a boyish grin, "Heading over to Amata?"

Hermione smiled at that but simply said, "No."

"I guess I should've figured as much…you don't have a book in your hand," he mused.

"Just so you know," Hermione began, "I don't only go there to read."

"Fair enough," he posed, nodding his head at her. "Did you want to take a seat? I could make you some tea, unless you're heading out."

"I'd like that, but I can make my own tea," Hermione replied.

Hermione made her way towards the stove and reached for the silver kettle. However, before she could grab it, the object flew away from her.

Turning around, she saw that Charlie had his wand out, holding the kettle in his other hand.

"Sit, Hermione," he said softly, nodding his head over to the seat across from him, "and I'll make you some tea."

As Hermione walked past him, she stated, "Honestly, I could have made it myself."

"Of course you could've," Charlie acknowledged, as water from the sink poured into the kettle upon Charlie's wand command, "but what kind of host would I be if I had you make your own tea this early in the morning?"

"You call yourself a host," Hermione questioned lightly, "Charlie, I think I might've spent as much time here as you have."

Charlie barked out a laugh, as he set the kettle upon the stove and turned to face Hermione, waiting for the water to boil. Crossing his bulky arms over his chest, he said, "You know, I wouldn't be at all shocked it that turned out to be true."

"I always liked spending my summers here," Hermione reminiscence, "it really is a beautiful home."

"I like to think so, too," Charlie relayed with a comfortable sigh, a smile tugging up the corners of his mouth. "Did you spend every summer here?"

"No," Hermione began, shaking her head back and forth, "the summer of the World Cup was my first time that I visited, actually. It was the same summer that I met you, too."

At this, Charlie's smile grew all the wider as he said, "Yes, I think I remember our first encounter. We talked about how dangerous my job was, right?"

Hermione nodded, responding with, "Yes, we did. And that was right before your mum cut your hair as short as it is right now."

Charlie's cheeks burned a light red, as he absent-mindedly ran his hand over his short hair.

"You know, back when I was in school, I always kept my hair short, unlike Bill. But when I started working in Romania, I guess I got too caught up with my dragons to really notice how long my hair actually was. Mum never liked my hair too long, which is strange considering she thinks it suits Bill," Charlie remarked.

"The only thing your mum doesn't like about Bill is the fang he wears from his ear," Hermione said, grinning.

Charlie tucked his head toward his chest before he shook it from side to side, as if he found it quite ludicrous as to why his mother was so bothered by fangs and long hair.

"In fact, I think the short hair suits you," Hermione commented. However, as soon as the words that had just left her mouth dawned upon her, her cheeks flushed a furious red.

She didn't even notice how Charlie's head jerked upwards suddenly, his eyes widening as if his own ears had deceived them.

"Oh, well, um, thanks, yeah, that, for," Charlie stammered, making the tips of his ears burn.

However, a moment later, the kettle started to screech, as Charlie mercifully turned around and away from Hermione and back towards the stove. Waving his wand, a second tea cup floated down from an open cabinet and hovered in midair as the kettle poured its contents into it.

The cup then floated before Hermione, as a teabag fluttered over to it and gently dipped itself into it. As the teacup landed upon the table when a soft _clunk_ , a spoon soared over and stirred the insides of the mug together.

As Charlie retook his seat transversely from her, she muttered, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he replied, looking over at her.

Hermione lifted the cup and took a small sip, feeling the scorching hot drink run down her throat.

"This is good, Charlie."

Charlie snorted as he accused, "You sound surprised."

"I shouldn't be," Hermione asked, arching one of her eyebrows upward.

"Well, if you must know, I happen to be quite skilled at brewing a cup of tea," he retorted playfully.

"Is that all?"

"No, I also happen to be adept at baking, too."

"Baking," Hermione repeated, caught unawares.

"Yes, baking," Charlie said triumphantly, happy that he had stooped Hermione.

"And what do you bake exactly?"

"Anything, really; my specialty is fudge brownies," he answered.

"That sounds distinctly Muggle, don't you think," Hermione inquired.

"Hermione, if there is one thing that transcends this wizard-Muggle rhetoric, it is the world of sweets," the second-oldest Weasley countered.

"I'm sure my parents would disagree," Hermione muttered.

"Really…why," Charlie questioned, taking another sip of his own tea.

"They're dentists, you see," Hermione relayed.

"They're what," Charlie asked, his face portraying one of immense puzzlement.

"Dentists," Hermione answered patiently, "they work on people's teeth."

"That sounds dangerous," Charlie stated.

"And this is coming from someone who works with dragons," Hermione added.

"What? Being a densit isn't considered a risky occupation?"

" _Dentist_ , Charlie, but no, it's not. Occasionally, some patients will bite my mum and dad's hands, but it's not all that bad," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"I think I'd rather take on the dragons rather than other people clamping down on my hands," Charlie observed, looking appalled at the fact that these 'dentists' would willingly stick their hands into strangers' mouths.

Hermione gave a small laugh as she took another sip of her tea, while a comfortable silence overtook the pair. Hermione's eyes gazed out of one of the kitchen's windows and saw the rolling gray clouds stroll across the dreary sky outside, while a light drizzle of rain began to fall, softly pitter-pattering against the panes.

"You know, last night at the Hogwarts' Banquet, Ron and I finally talked…about us," Hermione told Charlie after several more quiet moments, looking over at him.

Charlie nodded his head at her, saying, "I figured as much when I saw the two of you duck out of the Great Hall. How'd it go?"

"Well, I think it went as well as I could have hoped for. Ron was actually understanding of the whole thing; it took me by surprise."

"You'd thought he'd challenge you, trying to get you to go on a date with him?"

"Not exactly like that, but I didn't think he would give in so easily. It was almost as if he expected that there was nothing romantic between the two of us," Hermione replied, staring over at Charlie, whose face was an unreadable façade. "I told you before, he likes to have rows with me, but last night, it was different."

"You sound disappointed," Charlie noted. For a split second, Hermione thought that Charlie himself sounded downcast when he said these words.

"I'm not," Hermione stated firmly, "I'm just surprised that he accepted it so easily, is all."

"That's a good thing though, isn't it?"

"It is," Hermione agreed, slightly nodding her head, "you're right."

Charlie regarded her for a long moment before he decided to change topics. "So, I know you're an early riser and all, but what are you doing up so early?"

"Oh, I have an appointment with Minister Shacklebolt this morning," Hermione answered.

Charlie gave a low whistle, and asked, "Wow…it's that serious, huh," though a shadow of mirth passed over his face.

"No, it's not serious at all," Hermione shot back, "it's about a job offer within the Ministry."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Hermione, but that sounds pretty serious to me," Charlie examined.

"Well, yes it's serious, but not in the way that you were implying," Hermione retorted.

"So you finally figured out what you wanted to do then," he surmised.

"I did," Hermione said, nodding her head.

"That's good…I'm happy for you," Charlie responded, smiling at her. "Just so you know, I also have an appointment at the Ministry today."

"Really," Hermione questioned, to which Charlie nodded his head in answer. "What is your appointment about?"

"It's with the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," he noted, pointing over to his stack of parchment that was situated next to him.

"You still have all of that to fill out," Hermione asked.

"Yep…it's paperwork for the dragon reserve in Wales," Charlie nearly groaned. "It's making me incredibly busy."

"Isn't it good to be busy," Hermione requested, "I mean, it's better than sitting around and doing nothing; at least you're being productive!"

"Sometimes, sitting around and doing nothing is the most ideal way to end a hectic day," Charlie announced.

"But there's so much to do," Hermione exclaimed.

"Which is why it's perfectly suitable to relax beforehand," Charlie joined in, falling into step behind Hermione's words.

As Hermione rolled her eyes at him, she commented, "You know, I'm actually thinking about applying for a position in your department."

At this, Charlie sat there, clearly stunned. He stared over at her, his teacup frozen halfway up to his mouth which was hanging open ever so slightly.

"Y-You're serious?"

Hermione nodded her head in response, smiling.

"I think that's incredible," Charlie said, an air of excitement seeping into his voice. "You and I could see a lot more of each other with this new dragon reserve and all; I mean, nearly the entire department is working day and night on it, trying to get it up and running before long."

"You sound excited to possibly be working with me," Hermione jested.

"What can I say," Charlie asked, setting down his mug and holding his hands up in the air, "I have only heard great things about you, Miss Granger."

"Are we speaking with formalities now, Mr. Weasley," Hermione probed.

"Only if you want to," he said, giving his shoulders a small shrug. "By the way, when is your meeting at?"

"It's at nine o'clock," Hermione answered.

Charlie looked down at his wrist, in which a dark gray watched was fixed upon, and commented, "But that's an hour and a half from now."

"I know, but I didn't want to accidentally oversleep and miss it."

Charlie shook his head from side to side, saying, "I'm sure you wouldn't of."

As the rain continued to weakly beat against the windows of the Burrow, Charlie asked, "Do you want to go to the Ministry together? I know you're going to be early and all but…"

Hermione pulled her eyebrows together and asked, "Don't you have to finish your paperwork?"

"I can get it done there. My meeting starts soon," Charlie supplied.

"If you're sure, then I can go with you. There's nothing wrong with being a little early for my meeting," Hermione said.

"You call an hour and half a 'little early'," Charlie accused.

"It's better than calling an hour and a half a little late," Hermione shot back.

For a quick second, Charlie looked taken aback at Hermione's statement, before his face broken into a wide grin and he started laughing.

After the amusement at Hermione's words coursed through him, Hermione questioned, "We can get to the Ministry through your fireplace, right?"

"Yeah," Charlie answered, "it's been quite convenient, seeing how dad got promoted to the head of the Department of Magical Artifacts and Catastrophes by Kingsley, as now our fireplace is connected to the Ministry's own Floo Network."

Charlie then began to collect his stack of parchment in his two hands which he straightened to the best of his abilities, and put them in a large folder. He then placed the folder into an old, frayed, navy blue backpack, joining another collection of files already inside.

Hermione spotted the backpack and asked, "Charlie, where did you get that from?"

Charlie looked down at what Hermione was looking at. When he did so, he told her, "My backpack? Dad got it for me when I was younger. Why?"

"It's just that I've usually seen witches and wizards carrying traveling bags instead of regular backpacks."

Charlie smiled as he said, "It's from dad, which is about as Muggle a present you can get from him. When I first got it, Bill and I tried to charm it to talk, like the Sorting Hat back at Hogwarts does, but it never worked. Mum hates this thing."

Hermione cocked her head to one side as if she was contemplating whether or not she liked the backpack or not. She made her way around the table and next to Charlie, as she said, "There's nothing wrong with it. I think it's quite charming."

"I use it a lot back in Romania," Charlie remarked, "it definitely comes quite in handy."

"You could put an undetectable extending charm on it," Hermione noted.

"Yeah, but if I did, then it would be distinctly non-Muggle," Charlie offered.

"You'd like it to be 'Muggle'," Hermione relayed.

"Sure…that's what makes it unique!" As Hermione smiled, Charlie asked, "Are you finished with your tea?"

With a nod of Hermione's head, Charlie waved his wand as the two teacups swept over to the sink, where a soap-laden sponge met them, as the objects came together, washing and rinsing itself out. Afterwards, a rag flew over, drying the two mugs, before they drifted up towards the cabinet they were taken from.

Charlie noticed that Hermione watched the cleaning progression with a grin coating her face.

"It's a useful spell to know when living alone," Charlie generated.

Hermione turned to him and said, "I can imagine," making him smirk.

Charlie then grabbed his backpack and wrapped it around his wide shoulders. As he adjusted its length, Hermione looked over at him and saw that he was wearing a white, polo-collared shirt, while a black belt held up his black slacks, and dark navy socks coated his feet. His short, fiery red hair was combed off to the side, much like it was the previous night. As he scuttled into his dress shoes, Hermione thought he looked very domesticated.

Charlie seemed to notice that Hermione was staring at him, for he looked over at her and innocently asked, "What?"

"Nothing," she started, "it's just that you look like a real Muggle."

"Yeah, well tell that to dad…I'm sure he'd be more than delighted that I finally found my true calling," he joked. "Actually, the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures is Muggle-Born. He gave me a few pointers on how to dress when out in public and not in a magical setting."

Hermione nodded her head at this before the pair looked at one another, and held each other's gazes. For a long moment, Hermione felt lost at sea while Charlie's eyes seemed to burn for a flickering flame that he wished would not extinguish. For her part, even though Hermione didn't know what this flame signified, she didn't want it to go out either.

Suddenly, yet ever so slowly, Hermione felt a magnetic pull towards Charlie. She didn't know if she was actually inching closer to him, or whether it was her own mind playing tricks on her.

However, upon hearing a door on a higher level creak open and shut, Hermione and Charlie sprung apart, neither of them really noticing just how closer they had crept towards one another, as both of their faces burned a merry red.

"Well, um, shall we go then," Charlie asked.

"Y-Yeah, I think it's best if we do," Hermione responded, cursing her own voice for wavering when she spoke.

The two then walked out of the kitchen, into the living room, and over to the fireplace, where Charlie picked up a small flowerpot that had been resting on the mantle, it housing the home's Floo Powder.

"You can go first," he suggested over to Hermione, nodding his head over towards the grate.

"Okay," agreed Hermione, as she grabbed a small pinch of Floo Powder and tossed it into the fireplace, making bright, green flames suddenly erupt. She then stepped into the hearth, and clearly articulated, "The Ministry of Magic in London!"

Abruptly, Hermione felt as if she was sucked down a tube that was too narrow for her body. She felt herself spinning very fast as a loud rushing sound impacted her ears; she could barely make out the numerous rooms that were connected to the Floo Network as she whizzed past each grate. Finally, she found herself in the fireplace in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

She stepped out of it and onto the brown, wooden floors as a moment later, Charlie appeared, with a mighty _whoosh_ , spouting about sparkling, emerald flames.

The pair then followed a small procession of people making their way towards the lifts. Hermione noted, however, that if she and Charlie were to have come perhaps one hour later, the atrium of the Ministry would be bustling with throngs of fellow workers, scurrying to their offices to start their workday; however, in the early hours of the morning, the Ministry was understandably not as busy.

It was then that Hermione saw the brand new statue that had been erected not even one week after Kingsley took over the Minister's post. This new figurine, which had replaced the Magic is Might Monument and the Fountain of the Magical Brethren, was made up of three large hands made of sandy brown stone that were all closed around a single, black wand that was pointed upwards, which had small bouts of water protruding from its tip. Circling the wand was a colossal phoenix, finished with red stone, while a white owl, completed with white stone, was situated near its tail feathers.

As Charlie continued to follow the Ministry workers, Hermione gently placed her hands on his arm, making him stop and look back at her questioningly.

Ignoring the tingling sensation that raced up to her shoulder, Hermione said, "Charlie, I think we need to go over to the security desk since we are visitors."

Charlie looked over to the far left where Hermione was now looking towards and agreed, saying, "Alright, let's go over there."

Breaking away from the Ministry employee parade, the pair then made their way up to the security desk to see a young man there, his head resting upon his fist, his eyes closed, his snores sounding like that of two hogs running down a hill.

Hermione looked back at Charlie who shrugged his shoulders in response, as she returned her attention to the young man. Clearing her throat, she called out, "Um, excuse me?"

He grunted boisterously but didn't awake. She looked back at Charlie for a second time, as he rolled his eyes before he leaned forward and rapped roughly against the desk.

The young man suddenly awoke, his face masking one of a disgruntled ghoul that had been robbed of a favorite pastime by banging around on the pipes of old homes. However, once he realized that he had visitors, his posture visibly straightened considerably, as he brushed his dirty blond hair out of his eyes.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. All visitors are required to present their wands for inspection at the security desk before proceeding," the young man said in a monotone voice, as if he was reading from his memory a script he had learned by heart.

He then held out his hand with a wide yawn, in which Hermione surrendered her wand to. The young man then placed her wand atop of a brass scale, as a second later, a small slip of parchment was produced out of the scale's bottom. He took the paper slip and said in a bored tone of voice, "Ten and three quarters, vine wood, dragon heartstring?"

"Yes, that's my wand," Hermione said.

The young man then looked over at Hermione curiously, before his eyes grew twice its normal size, nearly bulging out of its sockets. Pointing a finger over at her, he said, "Hang on! I know you – you're Hermione Granger!"

However, before any other words were exchanged, Charlie stepped in front of her and said with a barely controlled ferocity, "And my name is Charlie Weasley…here's my wand."

The two exchanged wands as the young man repeated the same steps he did just a moment before, while Charlie handed Hermione her own wand back.

"Twelve inch, ash, unicorn tail hair," the young man said, his tone of voice reflecting unstableness, looking over at the second-oldest Weasley wearily.

Charlie nodded his head stonily as he took his wand back and led Hermione away from the security desk. She saw out of the corner of her eye as they walked away that Charlie shot a glare back at the young man.

Hermione assumed that Charlie was angered by the fact that the security guard had nearly shouted her name for the entire atrium to hear, as he remembered how she reacted when the two of them went to Diagon Alley to pick up dress robes, only to have nearly the entire lane stop, whisper, and stare at her.

The two walked past a pair of golden gates and into a small hall, where twenty lifts awaited behind wrought golden grilles. Charlie and Hermione squeezed into one lift with a large mass of other witches and wizards, while half a dozen pale, violet-colored paper airplanes, or interdepartmental memos, flew in as well.

As the grills clanged shut, the lift unexpectedly zoomed backwards violently, causing its occupants to chorus an "Oh!" For her part, Hermione lost her balance and fell against Charlie's firm chest.

After muttering a quiet "sorry," and grabbing hold of a golden rope that was hanging from the ceiling while her face burned, the lift plummeted downwards.

At each level, more and more people got off, while an even exchange of memos flew into and out of the lift.

Stopping once more, a cool female voice rang out, "Level Four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

Charlie, along with several other workers, stepped out of the lift. However, Charlie then turned back, looked over his shoulder, and said, "So, I guess I'll see you back at the Burrow, then, Hermione."

"See you then," she said, giving him a small wave and smile, as Charlie nodded his head once at her and departed off to the right and out of sight.

The lift then plunged downward again, before it finally came to a screeching halt at level one, where the cool female voice once again said, "Level One, Minister for Magic and Support Staff."

Hermione stepped out of the lift, being the sole soul to do so, as she walked over a purple, carpeted hall, passing by brown doors that had silver plaques with names fixated upon them. After she walked by a door that bore the title, 'Morlen Sprought, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic,' she finally reached the Minister's office.

Hermione shivered uncontrollably, as even though she was positive she was making the right decision, her nerves still raced through her, as a bubbly sort of feeling invaded her chest.

After she knocked on the door, she waited for a short minute before it opened and Kingsley exclaimed in his deep, low rumble of a voice, "Why Miss Granger, you are quite early."

"I apologize, Minister Shacklebolt, but I thought it would be better to come now than arrive late," Hermione stated.

"Please, call me Kingsley, Miss Granger," he told her, as Hermione noticed that he had a large, gold hoop dangling from his left ear, while he was dressed in light blue wizards' robes. "Well, come in, come in, we might as well start right now since you are here."

"Thank you," Hermione said quietly, while she followed him inside his office, before he sat in his chair while he beckoned for her to take a seat in a comfortable-looking chair across from him, with his desk situated in between them.

"So, Miss Granger, what can I do for you?"

Hermione took a deep breath, wondering again if she was making the right decision, as she started, "After a lot of consideration, I decided not to return to Hogwarts School for my final year to complete my education."

She then paused, speculating whether or not Kingsley was going to make a comment. He didn't; however, he gave her a knowing smile.

"I just can't find it in myself to go back to Hogwarts after everything that has happened. I figured out that taking a position within the Ministry of Magic is me taking my first step forward into the future, much like what you told us all to do in your speech last night."

"Miss Granger, believe me when I tell you this: you have do not have to justify your actions and decisions to me; you gave a lot during the war, and I'm sure no one could fault you for moving on," Kingsley told her with his deep rumbling.

Hermione smiled at that, grateful that he understood her position and stance regarding schooling and working.

"Which department are you interested in working in," he asked.

"I've been thinking for a while about pursuing a career in magical law, but recently, I've been learning more about a career having to do with magical creatures and it's something that looks inviting," Hermione responded.

"Yes, well, I think it would be wise to let you know that the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures is very busy at the moment, due to the opening of a new dragon reserve in Wales," Kingsley commented, putting the tips of each of his fingers together in front of him.

"Yes, Charlie Weasley told me about that already."

After Kingsley nodded his head at her comment, he said, "It is a fantastic department to work in, but you must make sure, Miss Granger, that this is what you really want."

"I'm positive," Hermione replied firmly, nodding her head once in confirmation, "magical creatures are something that I'm passionate about."

Kingsley smiled over at her before he took hold of his wand and gave it a flick. Instantly, a quill started to scratch away upon a blank piece of parchment. After it was finished, the parchment bended and folded into the body of a miniature lynx, as it then crouched down, as if it was about to pounce on an unsuspecting prey. It then jumped into the air and disappeared.

Seeing Hermione's puzzlement, Kingsley explained, "I'm testing out a different method for interdepartmental memos. Last week, the airplane memos caused a bit of a disruption when one of them flew into one of the eyes of a giant we brought in for questioning. Let's just say that more than a few wizards ended up in St. Mungo's with several broken toes."

"Well, the new memos are creative," Hermione told him.

"I like to think so as well, but I'm afraid that the other departmental heads do not agree – they discriminate against change."

With Kingsley's words, Hermione was suddenly transported back to her talk with Hagrid the previous night, when he informed her of his dad telling him that 'everyone could use a little change.'

"Miss Granger," Kingsley started, breaking her out of her mild stupor, "the message I just sent was to the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, notifying him about your arrival shortly."

"Thank you, Minst – I mean, Kingsley," Hermione corrected herself.

He, however, waved it away, saying, "No, Miss Granger, I should really be the one thanking you for everything you have done over the past year."

"It was a team effort," Hermione responded softly, not wanting to dwell upon shipwrecks that have long since been abandoned.

"Of course it was, but the magical community in Great Britain will choose what they decide to pass down onto future generations. There has been no shortage of the heroics the three of you have embarked on, yet I question the vitality of half of them. I mean, you didn't really face-off against a band of rabid werewolves without wands, did you?"

Hermione was flabbergasted at that wild jaunt she, Harry, and Ron had supposedly embarked on, as she shook her head from side to side in answer.

"I didn't think so," Kingsley sighed, as Hermione thought she detected a very slight trace of mild disappointment in his voice at the news. "Well," he continued on, standing to his feet, as Hermione mirrored his action, "I assume that you don't know where to go now, do you?"

"No, I don't," Hermione replied.

"You take the lifts up to Level Four. There, take an immediate right, and at the end of the hall, you'll find the head of the department. His name is Darren McGill," Kingsley instructed.

"Thank you so much," Hermione said in response again, as the two shook hands, "this really means a lot to me!"

"No doubt it does, Miss Granger, no doubt about it. Now go on, and good luck."

With those parting words, Hermione exited Kingsley's office, shutting his door quietly behind her, before she walked upon the purple, carpeted floors again, her footsteps muffled, as she made her way towards the lifts.

As the lift surged upward, making Hermione's head spin, she briefly wondered if she would see Charlie again, as he had told her before that his meeting was with the department head, now known as Darren McGill.

With the lift opening onto Level Four, Hermione stepped out, as a brief fluttering-type of feeling overtook her, as she was quite nervous upon what to expect when working with magical creatures, and meeting the department head.

Following Kingsley's directions, she found herself walking towards the door he had described for her just a few moments ago. However, as she approached the closed office door, she heard several loud banging sounds within; it was as if a burglar was overturning the office upside down.

Nevertheless, Hermione knocked upon the door but received no response, except more loud thumping noises. With her curiosity getting the better of her, she slowly turned the knob, opened the door, and poked her head inside.

That was when Hermione's eyes fell upon complete and utter chaos: miniature creatures of magical descent were running free yet wreaking havoc upon doing so. She saw two small dragons ripping apart an unopened envelope, as half of a stack had already been torn to shreds; small cracks started to sprout upon the sole window in the room that was situated behind a single desk, as a centaur repeatedly ran headfirst into the glassed pane, seeming to try and escape towards freedom; three merpeople were banging their fists against the glass of a Muggle fish tank, looking like wild predators of a deep ocean; while four Pixies were flying around the office, throwing books, quills, and pieces of parchment careening through the air.

Suddenly, a voice cried out, " _IMMOBULUS!_ " Instantly, everything froze in place. Hermione then saw a man peek out from under a desk, looking as if he had just woke up from a heavy sleep, as he then waved his wand through the air in one fluid motion, as his office started to re-organize itself, while the miniature magical creatures were swept back into their respective cages.

The man then looked over at Hermione and exclaimed, "Sorry 'bout that! Kingsley's memo set them all off! You're probably wondering why I didn't use the freezing charm before now; I must tell you, those pixies have incredible aim at throwing heavy books, mind you!"

Hermione stayed silent as he explained his early-morning office fiasco to her, as she felt quite overwhelmed all of a sudden.

"You must be Hermione Granger…well, how foolish of me, of course you are Hermione Granger! I mean, your picture has been plastered over the front pages of the Daily Prophet ever since this past May, hasn't it? Well then, allow me to introduce myself: my name is Darren McGill, and I am the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, yet I am sure you already knew that, with a brain like yours, if the Prophet is anything to go by!"

Hermione smiled and shook the seemingly over-excited Darren McGill's hand, while she took in his appearance. He was rather short, while his grey-brown hair looked as if a strong wind had overtaken it and blew it into an uncultivated mess. He wore round glasses upon his crooked nose, in which a neatly-trimmed mustache sat underneath, as his jaw looked as if it was a bit too large for his face.

"It's nice to meet you," Hermione said.

"Certainly! It's nice to meet you as well," McGill repeated, and motioned for Hermione to take a seat opposite him, his desk positioned between them.

"May I ask you a question," Hermione posed.

"Of course you can! You can ask me anything," McGill responded, with a large smile fixated upon his face.

"What were those magical creatures before? I don't think I ever seen anything like them," Hermione inquired.

"Oh, those silly inventions! They are called Daxons – creatures that are created and charmed to life," he responded.

"Created from what," Hermione asked.

"Anything, really. Let's see…the two dragons were made from the bark of an oak tree, the centaur came from a bookshelf, the merpeople were made from a heavy traveling cloak, and the Pixies…well they didn't really come from anywhere except a garden I have out back of my home," McGill explained.

"What do you mean by 'made from' and 'came from'," Hermione questioned in confusion.

"Well what I mean by that is that witches, but mainly wizards, carved pieces of wood, or spun together pieces of cloth, before they charmed the inanimate beings to life. I like these things," McGill went on, pointing over to the separate cages the small animals were now resting in, "they brighten up my day every time I see them!"

Hermione looked over towards the cages and saw one of the tiny dragons spout a small bout of smoke.

"Oh, bless the lad…he thinks he can breathe fire! Anyway," McGill continued, shaking his head in pleasure as he then focused his attention onto Hermione, "passionate 'bout magical creatures, are you?"

"Yes, I am," Hermione answered with upmost confidence.

"What would you say you are most zealous about?"

Without any hesitation, Hermione responded, "I want to push for house-elf legislation through the Wizengamot."

McGill looked surprised at this, as he repeated, "House-elves?"

"Yes, house-elves are treated unfairly and they don't even know it. They are kept from basic rights and are forced to sometimes work in hazardous working environments. They shouldn't be treated like inferior beings just because they aren't human," Hermione said hastily.

After a slight pause, McGill stated, "I must say that I have never heard of house-elf legislation before. I, of course, see where you are coming from, though."

"You do?" Hermione looked at McGill in a hopeful manner.

"Sure…I am Muggle-Born, Hermione, just like you, and it is true that our type sees things slightly differently than most pureblood witches and wizards, wouldn't you agree?"

Hermione nodded her head in answer.

"But, if you are to work for my department, I must say that pushing for the rights of house-elves is a rather tall order for your first assignment."

At McGill's words, Hermione's optimistic spirit was slight tampered with.

"However," McGill persisted, making Hermione considerably brighten once more, "I believe I have the perfect introductory project for you to work on."

When he didn't carry on, Hermione's inquisitiveness got the better of her.

"What is it," she asked.

McGill leaned forward in his chair and asked with a raised eyebrow, "How much do you know about dragons?"


	6. Bath Water and Bubbles

Hello readers! Here is Chapter 6 of "Nocturnal." Chapter 7 will be posted this upcoming Monday afternoon. Thanks for reading.

* * *

Chapter 6: Bath Water and Bubbles

The sun was beginning to set over the horizon, slowly sinking behind the faraway green hills, turning the sky into a portrait of small, fluffy purple clouds against a pink and yellow backdrop. The air was still and the air was fresh as the final days of summer quickly approached, seeming as if it could not wait to make its exit.

Charlie and Hermione were in Amata, sitting upon the large slab of rock they usually occupied. However, this time, the two faced one another, while a thick stack of parchment sat between them.

Earlier that day, the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Darren McGill, offered Hermione the position titled the Junior Functionary Supervisor, which would entail her to help out on the new dragon reserve that was set to open in Wales in less than a month. McGill assigned for her to work under Charlie, making him, effective immediately, her boss.

Though she didn't outwardly show it, Hermione was both surprised yet pleased to be working with Charlie, as before when he told her that the new dragon reserve was taking up the time of everyone in the department, she never would've guessed that her first job was her gaining first-hand experience in working with dragons. For his part, Charlie also seemed cheerful that she was going to be working with him, as they stopped by for a quick lunch in Diagon Alley, discussing the different aspects of what was to be expected of her with this new encampment, before they came back to the Burrow.

After much goading from Hermione, Charlie finally told his family about how he was to oversee the construction of the new dragon reserve in Wales, and that he was going to move back to Devon from Romania. To say that Mrs. Weasley was thrilled at his piece of news was an understatement, for as soon as her second-oldest son told her this information, she howled with joyfulness, throwing the ladle she had in her hand into the air of the kitchen, before it smacked Ron on top of his head, making him curse profusely.

After Hermione informed the Weasley family, in addition to Harry, that she too was going to work on the reserve, shocked faces stared over at her, no doubt surprised that she had made the decision not to return to Hogwarts for her final year, before they morphed into congratulatory looks.

"That is wonderful news, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley exclaimed with tears of happiness in her eyes, "that you and Charlie will now work so close to home, and both Ron and Harry start their Auror Training Program next week as well! We'll all celebrate with a large dinner tonight!"

As a light breeze stole over them, ruffling about the sheets of parchment between them, Hermione, having reached the end of the piece of parchment she had been reading over for the better part of most of the last hour, set it down, as her gaze fell over Charlie. She noticed that his brow was furrowed together in immense concentration, while his bottom lip jutted out, as if he was pouting. His blue eyes quickly scanned over the parchment he held in his two hands, as his chest rose and fell in even spells. He looked both comfortable and content, while his short, bright red hair was brushed off to the side.

When he was finished, he sighed, setting down the piece of parchment on top of the one Hermione was just completed reading, as he then looked up at her.

"What," he asked curiously.

"Oh, n-nothing," Hermione stammered, blushing at the fact that she had been caught blatantly staring at him.

She heard Charlie laugh quietly to himself before he questioned, "How long have you been looking at me?"

Hermione looked back over at him and stated as a blush crept up her neck, "I was looking at something behind you."

Charlie looked over his shoulder before fixing his gaze back on her as he commented, "I agree with you…the tree behind me is fascinating to look at. Its brown bark, and green leaves-,"

Hermione, however, cut him off at this point.

"Okay, okay, I was looking at you," she relented, feeling her shoulders slump.

"I don't mind that you were staring at me, Hermione," Charlie started in a simple manner, "I was just curious about why you were, is all."

"I was actually thinking about something," Hermione offered, "while looking at you."

"Thinking about what," Charlie inquired.

"Well, I was just thinking about this new dragon species we've been reading about ever since we came back from the Ministry," Hermione answered.

"They're definitely different," Charlie remarked sounding rather awed. "From what I've read so far on them, they seem to be aggressive towards humans, yet they like to be in the company of other dragons."

"Dragons usually don't like to be near each other, do they," Hermione asked, though she felt as if she already knew the answer.

Charlie shook his head as he responded, "No, they don't. You see, dragons are very territorial creatures – it is not uncommon for them to fight over what is usually theirs. But the fact that this dragon, the Victorian Shaler, is comfortable around other dragon species…well, it's odd."

"As odd as it may be, they really are fascinating," Hermione said.

"Oh, no doubt they are," Charlie agreed, nodding his head, "I can't wait to finally see one in person and up close."

After a quick moment of silence, Hermione posed, "Charlie, I have a question for you."

"I hope I have an answer in return," he shot back, a small smile playing over his mouth.

Hermione scoffed mildly, before she asked, "What do we have to do back in Romania?"

"I have some last-minute paperwork to fill out with the dragon reserve there, as well as with the Romanian Unitary Magical Republic. Also, it'll be a chance for me to say 'goodbye' to the workers back there, as well as the dragons I took care of for so long."

"You're going to miss them, aren't you?"

"Of course I will," Charlie supplied, "but I'll have a whole new host of dragons to look after in Wales. But like I told you before, you don't have to come to Romania with me. Of course, I would like for you to but-,"

"No, I want to go," Hermione stated, making Charlie grin. "Besides, McGill wants me to go too."

"Technically, McGill also said that I'm your boss, so that means that you have to do whatever I say," Charlie retorted.

"Oh? So you're going to make me stay behind while you go frolicking off to Romania," Hermione asked unabashed, rising up one of her eyebrows at him as a challenge.

Charlie laughed before he responded, his eyes alight with humor, "I don't, as you put it, go 'frolicking off to Romania' – it's where I work. I don't go there to have fun; I tend to take my job very seriously."

"I believe you, Charlie," Hermione said, suddenly turning more earnest. "I also want to see how a dragon reserve really is."

"It's incredible," Charlie replied without any hesitation, a full smile now coating his face, "it's unlike anything I've ever seen before. I think you'll really like it."

"I can't wait to see it, then," Hermione told him.

As the sun continued to sink lower and lower, surrendering its might to the nearing night sky, Charlie cleared his throat and began, "Hermione, this may sound strange and all but I'm really glad that you decided to take up a post in the magical creatures department. I never met a gal who was so eager to join."

Hermione smiled at this as she responded, "I think that the wizarding community, at least here in Great Britain, still play along with out-of-date gender roles, where the women go into more feminine-type careers while the men go into more masculine-type careers."

"So you're happy to break out of that mold, are you," Charlie inquired.

"I don't see it like that," Hermione said, "I just view it as doing something that I'm passionate about."

At this time, Hermione noticed that a small frog had hopped over to the banks of the small pond. However, the animal didn't jump in; instead, it just looked at the open water in front of it.

Hermione then looked back over at Charlie and said, "If it means anything, I'm also happy that I joined the department."

Charlie looked over at her as if he wanted to say something: his eyes were alive while it seemed as if to Hermione, his chest was rising and fall in uneven paces, unlike before. She waited patiently for him to speak whatever was on his mind, but he was hesitating. She knew he was as she could see it on his face.

It reminded her of the first night after the two of them had a long talk outside. Hermione had made to enter back into Ginny's room for the night, yet it seemed as if Charlie had wanted to say something to her then as well. But he hesitated then and he didn't say to her what he wanted to, she knew it.

After a moment when no words came from Charlie, Hermione softly asked, "What is it?"

With another brief second of uncertainty, he cast his eyes downward as if he was embarrassed, nearly mumbling, "I'm just happy that you're coming to Romania with me."

Charlie's admission seemed to expand Hermione's chest twice its normal size, but for reasons that she couldn't quite pinpoint.

'He was excited that I was going with him to Romania,' Hermione thought to herself.

"I'm happy that I'm going to Romania with you, too, Charlie."

Without another word, Hermione picked up the next piece of parchment from the pile that was resting in between her and Charlie and started reading it. What she didn't notice, however, was that Charlie had not reached for another piece of parchment himself, for he was staring over at Hermione with a look of hope dancing within his eyes. Neither one of them noticed, though, that the frog Hermione had spotted not even a minute ago, quietly made its way into the pond's waters, submerging itself in its wake.

* * *

Nightfall came as the Burrow thundered into the dark sky, with the crescent moon hanging just above it, paired together with a mass of glittering stars. A large table had been erected just beside the Weasley home, as it was piled high with food Mrs. Weasley had prepared to honor Charlie and Hermione's new working situation, while also celebrating Harry and Ron's first foray into being full-trained Aurors.

Hermione was seated across from Harry and Ron and in between Ginny and Charlie, the latter of who was talking animatedly to his parents about the Victorian Shaler dragon; Mr. Weasley's eyes were wide with wonder, while on the other hand, Mrs. Weasley's face was contorted in fright with what one of her sons would soon be working with.

Hermione overheard Bill and Percy discuss the new Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, while beside them, Fleur was babbling incoherently to her daughter, Victoire. Fred and George, meanwhile, had their heads together as if they were on the cusp of plotting a new invention to add to their joke shop, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

While Harry and Ginny kept stealing shy glances and blushes from one another towards the middle of the table, Ginny didn't even seem to notice that small bits and pieces of lamp chop were flying onto her plate, thanks to Ron's rambunctious eating; Hermione then started searching her plate to see if anything not of her own had landed on it.

After everyone had their fair share of dinner, Mrs. Weasley disappeared back into the Burrow, only to reappear just several seconds later, levitating a large cake in front of her. Setting it down in the middle of the table, Hermione saw that the cake was in the shape of a red dragon, while a wand was clasped in its mouth.

Hermione rolled her eyes, however, when she saw minutes later that Ron was eyeing each piece of the cake that was being distributed out, a fork in his hand, eagerly awaiting his own portion.

As the pieces of cake was being consumed and other conversations continued to flow around the table, Hermione looked over at Harry and Ron and asked, "So what is it are you going to do in Auror training?"

Seeing that Ron's mouth was stuffed with a large segment of cake, Harry answered, "The training is divided into weeks: one week, we learn about different spells, jinxes, hexes, and defense, while the following week, we train."

"How long does the training take," Hermione questioned, "I mean, it shouldn't take too long to learn all of the spells, right?"

"It takes two months," Harry responded, "and we have a big cumulative exam at the end. If we pass that exam, then we become Aurors. If we don't, then, well, we don't become Aurors," he finished somewhat lamely.

"So do you enter directly into the field after the exam," Ginny inquired, as Hermione noticed that she sounded slightly anxious.

"No," Harry supplied, "we are paired with an official Auror for four months before we can go off on our own." Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Ginny visibly relax at Harry's statement.

"Do Aurors tend to work alone," Hermione questioned next.

"We can choose whether we want to work alone, or if we want to be partnered together," Harry responded, looking sideways over at Ron as he said this. Ron, however, didn't seem to be paying any attention for he was now eyeing Hermione's nearly untouched cake hungrily.

Ginny then turned to Hermione, asking, "And what about you, Hermione? Do you know what you are going to do for your job?"

"My job is to make sure the transition of the new reserve in Wales goes over smoothly and to gain 'hands-on' experience in helping to work with dragons," she answered.

"Don't you need training to work with dragons," Ginny queried back.

"Yes, but I'm not going be dealing directly with dragons…just helping the other workers out," Hermione clarified.

"Do you know how long you are going to be working on the new reserve in Wales for? I mean, after the transition happens, can't you request to work on a different project," Ginny questioned, "something that doesn't have to do with dragons?"

"The department head didn't say how long the transition was going to take," Hermione answered, "but I assume that I can if I want to. But I'm kind of excited to be working with dragons; Charlie makes it sound so fascinating!"

Ginny then lowered her voice and asked Hermione in a quiet manner, "Speaking of Charlie, is it true that you are going to be working with him?"

At this, Hermione turned to glance at Charlie, who was still chatting with his parents, before she looked back at Ginny and responded, "The head of the department assigned me to him, so yes."

At her words, Ginny gave her a funny look which Hermione couldn't quite register. Hermione then turned her attention across the table on Ron, yet when she did so, she huffed, and exclaimed, "Honestly, Ronald! If it will make you stop looking at my piece of cake like a starved dog, here, you can have it," shoving her plate towards him. Without a word, Ron stared to dissect the cake in front of him at a nauseating pace.

Soon afterwards, Bill and Fleur took their leave, stating that Victoire needed to go to bed for she was fussing about. Fred and George also departed, just as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley started to levitate all of the dinner dishes back inside.

It was at this time that Harry stood to his feet and said, "Ginny, can I talk to you for a moment?"

Hermione looked over at Ginny who had a look of surprise on her face, before she nodded her head in silence, stood to her feet, and followed Harry over to the Weasley's orchard, in which a multitude of fairy lights were on display, leaving Hermione, Charlie, and Ron at the table.

As a small wind overtook them, Charlie turned towards Hermione and asked, "So, Hermione, having you finished packing yet?"

"Yes, I finished right before dinner," she noted in a business-like tone.

Charlie nodded his head and said, "Just remember that our portkey is scheduled to leave early tomorrow morning."

Before Hermione could respond, Ron interjected, "Charlie, you don't have to remind Hermione of anything. If you told her how you like your bath water, Hermione would make a note to remember that six years later."

Charlie glared at Ron before Hermione, being already used to Ron's rather odd sense of humor, said softly, "He's right."

This made Charlie look at Hermione strangely as he tried to elucidate, "You would remember how I liked my bath water after six years?"

Hermione felt her jaw drop slightly before she recomposed herself and said, "No…I just tend to remember what people tell me."

"So then, if you remember what people tell you then shouldn't you remember how I like my bath water," Charlie furthered.

Hermione laughed as she shrugged her shoulders and said, "When you put it like that, I suppose."

The two looked at each other, humor invading their faces.

"Just so you know, I like my bath water to be filled with bubbles," Charlie remarked after a moment.

"Bubbles," Hermione questioned.

"Bubbles," Charlie stated with finality.

"Listen, are you lot done talking about bath water and bubbles," Ron asked in an annoyed tone.

Hermione and Charlie turned to look at him as Hermione commented, "Ron, you were the one that brought up the bath water!"

"Yeah but not the bubbles," he fired back.

At this exchange, Charlie started laughing, now making Hermione and Ron look over at him.

"What are you on about, Charlie," Ron questioned.

"Fighting about bath water and bubbles, one would have to question if the three of us were really adults," he replied, laughter still shaking his chest.

With his explanation, Hermione also started laughing, while Ron began to smirk.

After several calm moments, Ron started, "Well, anyway, I was wondering, Charlie, if you were up for a ride on our broomsticks? I'm going to go and ask Harry to join as well."

Charlie looked over at Hermione, before he looked over at his youngest brother and said, "I don't think I'm up for it tonight; you and Harry can go ahead though."

Ron, however, did not move, but instead, his eyes shifted between Hermione and Charlie, while a confused expression clouded his features.

"What's going on between you two," he asked.

Hermione looked over at Charlie, who in turn looked over at her, before she said, "Ron, there's nothing going on between me and Charlie. Why would you ask something like that?"

"Because the two of you have been spending a lot of time together lately," he accused back.

"What…are we not allowed to spend time together now," Charlie inquired. Hermione noted that he didn't seem at all mad, but rather curious.

"You've never spent time together before," Ron retorted.

"That's because we never really had time to," Charlie replied, "but now, we do."

Ron gave them another probing look before he shook his head from side to side, sighing in the process.

As he got up from the table, he noted, "It's still strange how close you two have become in such a short amount of time. I almost thought that – no, no way! I would certainly know about it!"

With that confusing manner of speech, Ron walked away and over to where Harry and Ginny had disappeared off to some time ago.

"What on earth was he implying," Hermione said aloud, watching his frame darken against the bright fairy lights he was walking towards. She turned to look at Charlie who was still seated next to her, as she saw that his head was leaning against his hand while his elbow rested on the table before them.

"I think he was trying to imply that the two of us were dating," Charlie surmised, as he looked intently at Hermione, seeming as if he was trying to gauge her reaction.

Hermione felt her own eyes grow wide as she sputtered, "W-W-What? W-Where would he get an idea like that?"

Charlie shrugged his shoulders in response, saying, "It's Ron! Should we expect anything else of him?"

"Well…I don't really know," Hermione responded. "Do we act like we're dating," she asked somewhat cautiously.

"If talking counts as dating, then yes," he answered lightly. To Hermione, Charlie didn't seem at all bothered by the fact of what his youngest brother thought of him and her.

"By that logic, I'm supposedly dating you, Ron, and Harry," Hermione commented, making Charlie laugh loudly.

"Following through with that same train of thought, I'd be dating you, too," Charlie reasoned.

Hermione noticed, however, that he didn't mention anyone else.

"You don't talk to any other girls right now," Hermione asked inquiringly.

"Not many," Charlie said back, shaking his head. "But I did go out with that girl mum told me about earlier this week, Desmiralda."

"Right, I remember your mum telling you about her just before we went to Madam Malkin's," Hermione relented.

"Yeah…well, we went for a bite to eat in Diagon Alley," Charlie told her. With his admission, Hermione, for reasons unknown, felt her heart deflate by a considerable amount.

"And how did it go," she questioned.

"Okay, I guess. I mean, she's exactly like what I told you before: she's incredibly beautiful, probably the most beautiful that I've gone on a date with yet, but there was no spark…well, not from my end at least."

"Not from your end," Hermione repeated. "Do you mean that she felt something?"

"I didn't ask her, but I'm pretty sure she did," he said.

"Confident now, are we," Hermione teased, trying to lighten her own mood.

"No, she asked me if I wanted to go out again with her," he replied.

"And what did you say?" Hermione found that her heart was hammering wildly against her chest and would be surprised to find out if Charlie couldn't hear it himself.

"I told her the truth: I said I wouldn't have much time because I was heading back to Romania."

"Didn't you tell her that you were coming back," Hermione questioned.

"No," Charlie said simply, looking over at her.

"But you could've," Hermione suggested.

"I could've, but I didn't."

Hermione nodded her head at him as suddenly, a very strange feeling overcame her: it was a feeling of sadness. For some reason that she couldn't explain, Hermione didn't like the idea of Charlie going on a date with some local witch his mum tried to set him up with. When Charlie had initially told her that he had gone out on a date, Hermione's heart sank from the force of gravity. The only silver lining in this mild debacle to Hermione was that Charlie didn't seem at all interested in continuing seeing Desmiralda.

"Are you okay, Hermione," Charlie suddenly asked.

"What?"

"I asked if you're alright. You look a little pale," Charlie noted.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine…just a little tired, I guess," she said back. "I think I'll head inside to get some sleep."

Charlie stared over at her for a long moment before he conceded and concurred, "Yeah, yeah I should get some sleep too. We both have an early morning tomorrow."

With that, Hermione and Charlie stood to their feet and walked back inside the Burrow, neither one saying a word to the other, though Hermione counted that Charlie peeked over at her no less than five different times.

Walking through the kitchen, and up the rickety staircase, Hermione got off on the second-floor landing to enter into Ginny's room. She turned around and said quietly, "Good night."

Without waiting for a response, she turned back around and took two steps forward before Charlie called out, "Hermione."

She turned back around to see Charlie walk towards her, concern evident in his eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm just tired is all," she responded softly.

Charlie shook his head back and forth as he said, "No, that's not it. You were just fine before. Was it something I said?"

Hermione looked up at him but how could she say what she really felt? Could she tell him that she felt dejected…that she felt miserable because Charlie went on a date with a girl he claimed was 'the most beautiful girl he had ever gone on a date with before'? Of course, Hermione was honest with herself with the fact that she knew Charlie was very handsome and very good looking, but that didn't automatically mean she had feelings for him.

But talking with him over the past week and a half, there was something about him that tickled her; it was a feeling of wanting to be near him because his presence was a comfort for her. Was she foolish in thinking that Charlie felt more for her than just friendship? The thought passed over her subconsciousness several times but it was never brought to the forefront of her mind. After all, there was an age gap between them and with that came experience and inexperience. If she was again to be honest with herself, Charlie probably wanted to find someone closer to his age…someone that was beautiful…someone that he was attracted to…the total opposite of what she was.

"Hermione, you can trust me," he nearly pleaded with her, "just tell me what's bothering you."

Hermione looked up at him and let out a heavy sigh that had been weighing her down.

Filling her lungs with a deep intake of breath, Hermione started, "It's just that-,"

However, before she could go any further, the sounds of footsteps nearby stopped her. Both she and Charlie then fixated their gazes on Ginny, who had made her way up the stairs at that specific point in time.

Charlie turned back to Hermione and she saw that he shut his eyes tightly, as if he was inwardly groaning to himself by the fact that he was hampered from his time with Hermione.

"Hey, Gin," Charlie said after a moment.

"Am I interrupting something," she asked carefully.

"No," Hermione stated, while at the same time, Charlie said, "Yes."

The two looked at each other quickly before Hermione took the lead and said, "No."

"It seems like I am," she said slowly, taking particular care to look up at her older brother.

"We were just finishing up," Hermione noted.

Ginny nodded her head as she walked past them and into her room, closing her bedroom door halfway.

"Good night, Charlie," Hermione told him again.

"Hermione," he whispered, lightly grabbing her hand and softly pulled her closer to him, "why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

"Because it's not important, Charlie," she answered, as a strong prickling sensation coursed throughout her entire body at his contact.

"You know and I know that you're not telling the truth. But if you want to let it go, then I'll stop asking you," he submitted.

Hermione, fully aware that Charlie was still holding her hand, said, "I don't think that it's something that I can talk about right now."

"But you can in the future?"

"Maybe," Hermione replied, "I don't know."

"Okay," Charlie said, relinquishing her hand, "so, then, I'll see you in the morning still?"

"Of course," Hermione remarked, "we have to take our portkey to Romania."

Charlie nodded his head at her though he didn't smile as he then continued to make his way up the stairs and to his room.

Hermione then retreated into Ginny's room, shutting the door behind her.

"What was that all about," Ginny asked from her bed, as Hermione saw that she had already changed into her pajamas.

"What?"

"You and Charlie," Ginny clarified. "It was like the two of you were arguing about something."

"We weren't arguing," Hermione stated.

"Well then, what were you two talking about?"

Hermione gave another heavy sigh as she sat down upon her bed, while she currently weighed the options about whether or not she should tell Ginny what had just occurred between her and her second-oldest brother.

"Charlie told me that he went on a date with some witch named Desmiralda. He called her the most beautiful girl he's ever been on a date with," Hermione muttered miserably.

"Hermione," Ginny started slowly, looking over at her friend as a sudden realization dawned on her, "are you jealous?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders as she relayed, "I didn't think I would be, but maybe I am…but I don't know why."

Ginny walked over and sat down beside Hermione.

"Hermione, I should tell you this because I think it's important that you know and because you are my best friend: Charlie has never been one to stay with any one girl for too long. I heard him telling mum some weeks back that he doesn't plan on settling down and marrying; it's just not his 'thing.' Of course, that doesn't mean mum will stop hunting down a witch for him to marry and have kids with, but I just don't think he's looking for anyone serious."

Hermione, however, remembered what Charlie had told her before: he just hadn't found the right girl yet…there was no spark.

"I don't know, Ginny," Hermione began.

"I just don't want you to get hurt, Hermione. Charlie's a good guy, but he's not perfect."

"I didn't think I felt for him in this way," Hermione said, "even though I'm not entirely sure what 'this way' entails exactly."

"Well, you have been spending a lot of your time with him lately," Ginny reasoned.

"Ron said the same thing."

"It's true, though. I don't think I've ever seen you spend this much time alone with Charlie before."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders as she replied, "He's different…I feel like he actually cares about what I have to say…it feels nice."

Ginny seemed to understand as she said, "Yeah, Charlie is like that with me, too. He's one of my favorite brothers."

"Not your favorite?"

"No, Bill and him are tied for first place," she answered, making Hermione laugh lightly.

"So what did Harry want to talk to you about," Hermione then asked, not wanting to speak about Charlie any longer.

At this, Ginny looked away from Hermione as she stood to her feet and went to sit on her own bed. Hermione looked over at her questioningly as she furrowed her brows together, as she noticed how quickly her demeanor changed.

"He wanted to get back together with me," Ginny finally responded after a long, drawn-out moment.

"Well that's good, isn't it? I mean, you told me before that you've been waiting to get back together with him after the war," Hermione relayed.

"I told him 'no', Hermione."

Hermione sat there, momentarily stunned, for she was sure that she had misheard what Ginny had said.

"You said no," Hermione asked, in which Ginny nodded her head in response. "But why…I thought you wanted to be with him."

"I do," Ginny sighed, "but I just don't think that now is the right time. He's going to start Auror training next week and I'm going to be starting Hogwarts soon…I want to wait."

"How did Harry take it," Hermione inquired.

"He definitely looked surprised but he agreed that we should take it slow. Did you know before that mum didn't approve of me and Harry dating?"

"What," Hermione exclaimed, clearly shocked by this admission.

Ginny nodded her head as she explained, "Mum thought that the only reason Harry and I dated was because we didn't know how everything would turn out. I believe her exact words were that we were 'living in the moment but not thinking for the long-term' or some rubbish like that. The truth is, though, is that I've always liked him, Hermione. When I first saw him, it was some silly little crush I had, but when you told me to try and be myself around him, everything changed…I saw him as a different person that what I initially believed him to be: he's someone that always gets the attention placed upon him no matter how many times he tries to stay away from it."

As Hermione agreed, she then said, "Well, you and Harry should take however long you need together. I'm positive it would be better if the two of you didn't rush into marriage, anyway."

"Marriage," Ginny parroted, her eyebrows shooting nearly into her hairline. "Hermione, that's a long, long way off…the thought hasn't even crossed my mind yet!"

Hermione smiled but decided that Ginny was right.

"Well, I need freshen up quickly and then I need to get some sleep," Hermione declared, grabbing her bag of toiletries.

Ginny nodded as Hermione made to move towards her door to head for the bathroom when Ginny's voice stopped her.

"Hermione," she called out, making Hermione turn around to face her, with one of her hands upon the doorknob, "when you go to Romania, please…just be careful."

Hermione looked over at Ginny and replied, "Don't worry, I'll be with Charlie and everything will be fine. One week will fly by and I'll be back here before you know it."

Ginny smiled over at her as she nodded her head before Hermione left for the bathroom. Little did Hermione know, however, that her trip to Romania would begin an effect that would lead to deadly consequences that would haunt her and Charlie for the rest of their lives.


	7. A True Tourist

Hello all! So this chapter begins Charlie and Hermione's week-long adventure romp to Romania! This chapter is littered with seeds that sets the course for the rest of the story so I hope you enjoy it. Chapter 8 will be posted this Friday night. Thanks for reading!

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Chapter 7: A True Tourist

The following morning, after Hermione brushed her teeth, tried to tame her wild mane of hair, and changed into a fresh set of clothes, she made her way down the staircase of the Burrow, every other step whining under her. She walked into the kitchen with her purple beaded bag in her hand when she stopped short as saw Charlie was already there, sitting at the table. He was groomed in a navy-collared shirt, paired with blue jeans and black socks, while he was also wearing a watch on his thick wrist, as he was rummaging in his backpack, straightening out papers and folders that had been ruffled together in a jumbled mess.

Charlie seemed to have sensed a presence from behind him for at that moment, he turned and glanced over his shoulder.

Seeing her, Charlie gave her a tight smile and said, "Good morning."

"Good morning to you too," Hermione said back.

Charlie nodded his head once before he returned to his task at hand, as Hermione noticed that his small smile had disappeared off of his face. She inwardly sighed, sensing that Charlie was acting differently towards her than he had previous mornings, yet Hermione didn't have to question as to why he was.

The previous night, Hermione had come to the realization that she did in fact share some sort of feelings of intimacy towards the second-oldest Weasley son; it was feelings and emotions that she was completely unaware of until he had mentioned that he had went on a date with a local witch, whom he had coined the 'most beautiful witch he'd ever been on a date with.'

Hermione's jealousy affected her temperament towards Charlie, yet she did not explain to him why her mood had changed course rather jarringly after their dinner last night. She didn't know if these feelings for Charlie were of a passing crush she would get over with soon enough, or if her feelings for him sailed out deeper into the open water – a feeling she never really felt for anyone else before…not even Ron.

As Hermione noticed that Charlie was now readjusting the straps of his backpack, an action that he had repeated for the third time in a row now, she surmised that he was trying to avoid looking at her, as she had guessed she may have strained their trust they shared with each other.

For all intents and purposes, she thought that their week-long escapade to Romania was going to be extremely awkward if neither one of them tried to clear the air between them.

Feeling that her sudden envious feelings were partly to blame, Hermione mustered up her Gryffindor courage, took a deep breath, and walked two steps closer to where he was sitting at the kitchen table.

"Charlie," she called out softly, as he had frozen in mid-motion before he turned to look at her. She saw that his face was a mask of emotions she couldn't depict.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," she sighed, "for acting the way I did."

Charlie stared at her, as he crossed his arms over his firm chest, the look in his sea blue eyes being as if he was sizing up her and her apology.

"I do enjoy talking with you and spending my time with you and I don't want that to change," Hermione continued. "I don't exactly know what came over me last night."

Charlie uncrossed his arms and said, "You don't have anything to apologize for, Hermione, it's alright."

"No, I do have to apologize. I usually don't have those sudden mood swings like I had last night and I don't think it's fair to you that I ruined a great evening."

Charlie chuckled as he replied, "You didn't ruin anything. Perhaps I was being a bit too irrational."

His statement confused Hermione as she felt her eyebrows pull together, trying to make sense of what 'irrational' behavior he displayed the previous night.

"What was irrational about last night?"

At her question, Charlie looked into her eyes and she saw that his gaze was trying to tell her something – they seemed to be trying to paint a picture for her, yet the colors blurred together, rendering the portrait incomprehensible. Hermione frowned at that thought, seeing that her relationship with Charlie was growing more complex.

Charlie then broke his eye contact with her and asked, "Are you hungry? I can make us a quick little breakfast as we still have some time until we have to leave."

Even though he had not answered her question, Hermione felt that she was more comfortable with the change of topics, for she questioned, "Do you think it's safe for us to travel by portkey on a full stomach? I remember that when we traveled to the World Cup, I got a bit nauseous doing so."

Charlie shrugged his shoulders, responding, "I don't think I ever got sick traveling by portkey before. If you think you're going to get sick and rather not eat, I understand."

"I just think that I shouldn't travel by portkey on a full stomach," Hermione tried to finalize.

"And you'd wager that traveling on an empty stomach is better," he challenged back.

"Well, I'm sure that there are studies on the matter that I could try and -,"

"Hermione," Charlie cut in with a small smile, "I'm not going to force you to eat anything but I think you should. I can whip up some pancakes and scrambled eggs in a flash…it's no bother at all."

"I guess I'll have a small bite only if you are as well," she contended.

"Of course I will…I'm starving," Charlie answered, and as if on cue, his stomach gave a low rumble, making the two of them smile, further relaxing the tension that had been hanging in the atmosphere of the kitchen.

Charlie then brandished his wand and waved it, as cabinet drawers opened, with a mix of ingredients shooting out of it, while two pans floated over to a stove that clicked to life. Batter began to mix in one pan while several eggs broke over another one, as the kitchen soon began to filter sizzling sounds and delicious smells, making Hermione's own stomach emit a low growl, imitating that of Charlie's just a few moments ago.

Charlie's head whipped over to her as he said, "I heard that."

Hermione made a point to roll her eyes as she confessed, "Okay, maybe I'm a bit hungry too."

Charlie scoffed playfully saying, "A bit? Your stomach sounds as if you hadn't eaten anything since the cake we had after dinner."

"I have to say that I normally don't wake up in the middle of the night and have any sweets," Hermione shot back. "I mean, we did go to bed soon after we ate."

"You don't," Charlie inquired, cocking his head slightly to one side, while a small front of puzzlement crossed over his features.

"I don't what," Hermione asked, slightly confused.

"You don't wake up in the middle of the night to have a snack," he reiterated.

"No, my parents always told me that it was a bad habit and it's not the healthiest thing to do either," she said after a minute.

"It can't be all that bad," Charlie offered, "can it?"

Hermione felt the need to laugh with the odd direction their conversation had now taken, though she answered, "Well, a small snack here and there isn't too harmful but if you do it every night, then I would say that it's not good for you."

"Oh," was all Charlie said.

"Do you have a snack every night," Hermione asked.

"No, not every night. I only found myself doing that when I have a lot on my mind. Bill does it, too. I remember that me and him nearly had ourselves a feast the night before he married Fleur."

Hermione laughed, remembering the pair's wedding the previous summer…it was also the night the Ministry of Magic had fallen into the clutches of Voldemort.

Charlie then waved his wand again as two plates and two cups soared down from a cabinet and landed on the table, while a plastic jug appeared from the fridge and poured its contents into the two cups.

"Have a seat, Hermione," Charlie said, nodding his head to the seat across from him, "the food will be ready in a few minutes."

Hermione did as she was told, placing her bag upon the table, next to a red comb that seemed to belong to a man. She noted, however, that this was the portkey she and Charlie were scheduled to take as Darren McGill had given it to them yesterday. Afterwards, Charlie informed her that McGill always fastens a different colored comb for the dragon reserve workers to use as a portkey when they go back to Romania.

"Charlie," Hermione began, making him turn to look at her, "does the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures have to register their portkeys with the Ministry every time they make one?"

"No," he answered, giving his head a slight shake, "the Portkey Office in the Department of Magical Transportation allows specifically the Beast Division in our department to make our own portkeys with our own merit, seeing that we travel across the continent quite a bit."

"And the portkeys the department creates has its own set time?"

"Yep," Charlie responded, "it's quite convenient if I do say so myself."

He then turned back around to face the stove, which now had smoke emitting from its top, as Hermione started to watch him. She noticed how he maneuvered around the appliances of the kitchen comfortably with his wand in his hand, waving it or giving it a flick occasionally. He did this with an easy grace and in his own time, acting like he was a skilled panther, creeping its way through the thickets of a jungle, making its way over to some unsuspecting prey.

The two frying pans prodded over to the table as a spatula appeared, placing a pancake on each plate, while it then placed a rather large helping of scrambled eggs on each one afterwards.

Charlie then took his seat across from her and started to dig into his breakfast. Instead of following his actions, Hermione instead looked over at him, the cogs in her mind spinning.

"You've cooked before, haven't you," she deduced.

At this, Charlie looked up from his plate, giving her an inquisitive stare, as he swallowed his food and replied, "I've cooked many times before, especially here. Didn't I already tell you that?"

"What I meant was that you've cooked before…for someone else," Hermione rephrased.

With her assessment, Charlie froze, his fork having pierced a piece of pancake halfway up to his slightly open mouth. As he set his utensil down, Hermione noted that he had grown extremely uncomfortable as his shoulders started to sag as if a heavy weight had been placed upon them, while his mouth morphed into a grim line.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Hermione began, speaking rather quickly as the temperature and the carefree attitude of the kitchen plunged.

"No, um, it's okay, actually," Charlie acknowledged, the tone of his voice somber and deep, as his eyes glazed over seeming like his mind was drifting through a thick fog…over a memory he had buried and long forgotten.

"Charlie, are you okay," Hermione asked him softly. When he didn't respond, she carefully reached over and placed one of her hands atop of his.

He looked down at the contact for a long moment, as if the two hands touching one another was some sort of alien-like companionship. Slowly but surely, he reacted to her by easing her hand into his and gently squeezing it, not letting go.

He looked up at her as she was surprised to see that he had a sad expression on his face, a look of vulnerability.

"How did you know that I cooked for someone before," he asked her quietly.

Hermione gave him a small smile as she said, "It's the way you move in the kitchen; it's like a routine for you, one in which you have memorized all of the steps to."

Charlie gave a brief nod of his head and a heavy sigh, releasing Hermione's hand in the process; when he did so, Hermione felt an odd sense of loss.

"You're right: I have cooked for someone before, someone that wasn't part of my family," he began.

Hermione continued to look over at him, their food nearly forgotten, as she feared she may have overstepped some sort of invisible line that dug deep into Charlie's past – a matter he was more reserved about and something he tended not to talk much about.

"Some time ago, I thought I found the witch I would be spending the rest of my life with back in Romania. It started out as a simple date, which turned into weekly dates, which turned into moving in together; before long, my world surrounded her. Everything was perfect: I was happy, she was happy, and it felt so…right.

"Apparently, I was wrong about her being happy. Soon after she moved in with me, she started acting differently, a bit strange. She had these sudden mood swings that I couldn't keep up with, or so she said, and she complained about almost anything and everything, but most of all, she didn't look at me the same way she did when we dated. It was like she completely changed in the span of a couple of months and I couldn't even recognize her anymore."

At this point, Charlie paused for a long moment, staring off out of one of the kitchen windows, looking out at the darkness that still surrounded the Burrow, though off in the distance, the first hints of the rising sun started to appear, its rays beginning to peek up over the horizon.

"Finally," he resumed, "one day, I confronted her about everything and where we were in our relationship. That was when she told me that she was pregnant. I was stunned. I started panicking but that was when she told me the baby wasn't mine."

Hermione gasped aloud at this revelation, making Charlie look up at her. Her eyes were wide as he shrugged his shoulders.

"I felt dirty and unclean; I also felt used and uncared for. Needless to say that I left her but I fell into a depression soon afterwards and developed a drinking problem."

Hermione felt her heart welt under the weight of what Charlie had gone through, even though she never experienced the type of pain he had endured. It was then that Hermione realized that he had been burned, badly burned.

"I'm sorry, Charlie," Hermione then said, "I didn't mean to bring it up."

"Don't worry about it," he told her, shaking his head from side to side, "it happened a long time ago and I'm over it now."

"It may have happened a long time ago but it still seems that you are somewhat affected by it."

"No, it's just that I never told anyone this – you're the first person to know," he responded.

"You mean that your family doesn't even know?"

"No, it's only you. But don't feel sorry for me, Hermione. It may not seem like it but I'm over what happened, and I got my depression and drinking problem in check. I just didn't expect telling you this so early in the morning, right before we're about to leave for Romania."

Hermione nodded her head in understanding before she carefully asked, "Do you know what happened to…you know…,"

"My ex-girlfriend," Charlie cut in.

Hermione nodded her head in answer.

"As far as I know, she had the baby and left Romania shortly after. I don't know where she is right now and quite frankly, I couldn't care less. I buried that part of my life," Charlie told her with a slight edge to his voice.

"It's not good to keep these things inside of you, no matter how bad they might be," Hermione noted softly.

With her words, Charlie smiled over at her and replied, "Are you spitting my own words back at me? I briefly remember telling you nearly the same thing you just told me when we talked about the war."

"Maybe," Hermione started, "but it was the truth. Everyone keeps secrets but sometimes, we all need some sort of outlet."

Charlie looked over at her curiously before he questioned, "Are you suggesting that you're my 'outlet'."

As a slight blush crept up her neck, Hermione responded, "Well, I was speaking in more general terms but you can tell me whatever you'd like."

"I guess," Charlie pondered, "but just so you know, I think of you than more than just an outlet…a lot more."

Hermione smiled at that before she and Charlie started to help themselves to their remaining breakfasts' foods.

After they were finished, Charlie waved his wand, making the plates fly off of the table and over to the sink, where they were greeted by a sponge that started washing them.

As Charlie took a gulp from his cup, he looked over at Hermione, seeming to regard her for a long moment. In response, Hermione started over at him in turn, seeing that a question seemed to be forming within him. She had guessed that his question would pertain to why she had acted so strange late last night after dinner.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a loud and anxious voice suddenly pierced the still air, nearly yelling, _"To be late forgoes your own fate!"_

Charlie's head whipped down his watch which seemed to be shaking as a small puff of stream streamed out of it.

"What was that," Hermione asked after a moment, her beating irregularly due to the watch's sudden outburst.

"An alarm I set for us," Charlie answered, "our portkey is set to leave in less than five minutes."

They both then stood to their feet as Charlie grabbed his backpack and set it on his shoulders.

Seeing that Hermione grabbed her beaded bag, he asked, "Do you want to put that in my backpack?"

"No, it's okay, it's not that heavy to carry. If you want, I could put your backpack in my bag."

Confusion swept over Charlie's face for a few seconds before the realization hit him.

"Your bag has an Undetectable Extension Charm on it, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it came in handy when Harry, Ron, and I were traveling all over Great Britain," she responded.

"Definitely useful," Charlie said, "but I'm fine with carrying my own things."

The two then shuffled closer to the table where the red comb sat directly in its middle.

"Are you nervous," Charlie asked in a gentle tone.

"A little," Hermione answered truthfully. "I've never been to Eastern Europe before."

"Don't be nervous, I'll be with you every step of the way."

Charlie's words made Hermione's heart pound against her chest, as a considerable warmth spread all the way down to her toes. The pair stared at each other for a long moment, as if they were trapped in time and space, as the full impact hit her that she was going to a foreign country with Charlie Weasley, a country she has only heard of mentioned in passing.

Suddenly, the red comb began to glow a bright blue, altering the gazes of both the kitchen's occupants down to it.

"Well, this looks to be us," Charlie stated, placing his index finger on the comb while Hermione followed suit. "I guess we'll be back in a week, then."

Hermione looked up to him and nodded wordlessly.

Then, as if a hook had jerked her from somewhere behind her navel, the kitchen of the Burrow instantly disappeared. As they seemed to spinning rather fast, Hermione closed her eyes as a wave of nausea washed over her, making her rethink her reasoning of accepting Charlie's breakfast proposal.

Not even half a minute later, Hermione found that she was not moving any longer, but she was quite still.

With her eyes still closed, Charlie said to her softly, "Hermione, it's alright. We're here…in Romania."

Hermione slowly opened her eyes and saw she and Charlie were standing in a large, windowless room, obscured by a heavy, violet curtain, with the only source of light being from floating candles above them, much like that of the Great Hall of Hogwarts.

"Charlie, where are we," Hermione asked, looking around.

"We're in the International Arrivals section of the Romanian Unitary Magical Republic," he told her. "We need to check-in with the front desk before we do anything else. Come on."

Charlie waved his hand forward with Hermione following in-step right behind, as they approached the thick, purple curtain which furled itself in a tight bind, creating an entrance for Charlie and Hermione to walk through.

When they did so, Hermione saw that they had stepped into a grand hall, decked with polished, wooden floors, while the walls were coated in rectangular, black tiles, skipping over the spaces where a door had been placed, as there were about half a dozen of them, as Hermione presumed they were doors to personal offices. The hall was airy as a single desk was situated in it, tucked against one wall, where a small line had already been formed.

Charlie looked over his shoulder at Hermione who was behind him and he told her quietly, "Follow me."

The pair then walked up to the desk and waited behind several people for their turn.

"So what do you think so far," Charlie asked, a small smile on his face.

"Well I haven't seen much of Romania so far, have I," Hermione countered.

"The Romanian Unitary Magical Republic is much smaller than the Ministry of Magic back home," Charlie noted, looking at her.

"Is the magical population not as big as it is back in Great Britain?"

"It's something along those lines," Charlie answered. "The magical communities in Eastern Europe are more divided than that of Western Europe."

"Why do you think that is," Hermione questioned.

"There are a number of theories that I've heard tossed around. The most common one though is that the magical community under the Soviet Union was the largest across the entire continent. However, when the Soviet Union fell, many of the newly-established countries declared their independence of their own magical states; afterwards, they never felt the need to come together."

"Hmm," Hermione analyzed, "it's interesting to see how witches and wizards are impacted by Muggle governments. I wonder how it is over in America."

"I couldn't tell you," Charlie said, shrugging his shoulders, "I've never been there."

Hermione nodded her head in understanding as they moved up in the line.

After a quiet moment, Hermione asked, "So is the Romanian Unitary Magical Republic the same as it is in London?"

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean in terms of location. I remember you told me that there is a magical community in Brasov. Is this place in the middle of Brasov?"

"In a way," Charlie replied. "I mean, technically, we are in Brasov, but just outside of the Romanian Unitary Magical Republic, there is a street that resembles Diagon Alley, with the only difference being is that it is much smaller in terms of the number of shops and restaurants it has."

"Oh," was all Hermione said.

"We can take a look around if you want to," Charlie proposed. "It's a quaint little area that's nice to walk around for a bit."

"I'd like that," Hermione responded. "By the way, how far away is the dragon reserve from here?"

"Not too far from here. The reserve is nestled in the deepest parts of the Carpathian Mountains that surround Brasov," Charlie stated.

Hermione nodded her head again as she and Charlie then approached the front desk. Behind it, Hermione laid eyes on what she supposed had to be one of the oldest women she had ever seen: the woman behind the desk had lines that raced around the skin of her face, resembling that of an intricate maze, while her completely white hair had small tufts missing in random places. Hermione also noticed that she wore small spectacles that was paired together with a stone owl pendant around her neck. When she smiled, Hermione saw that she was missing at least half of her teeth.

However, she and Charlie started chatting away in a foreign tongue, in what Hermione assumed was the Romanian language, as it seemed the two of them had conversed many times before. Hermione was surprised at Charlie's ease of use in a second language, though she wondered if she should be surprised at all, seeing how much time he had spent in Romania over the previous years. Though she didn't understand what they were saying, she heard Charlie say her name at least twice.

Charlie then turned his head towards Hermione, as she saw that he had two red circles plastered on his cheeks in a blush, before he said, "We have to place our wands in the Detector de Baghetă."

"The what," Hermione asked in bafflement.

"Oh, sorry," Charlie quickly corrected, "over there."

Hermione followed his pointed finger and saw a circular device situated on the front desk she had not seen before. The device was made of a large, gold ring that was hollow in its center.

"It's translated to the Wand Detector in English. It's for security purposes," he told her as he placed his wand in the ring where it hovered in midair without any added support. After several seconds, the device started to shake before a bout of green vapor was issued from a small tube near the top.

"Your turn," he said, nodding his head towards the Wand Detector.

Hermione repeated the steps she had seen Charlie do as she placed her wand in the device, which it too, hovered in midair. After several seconds and a small shake, another bout of green vapor was emitted.

"The green vapor means that the Wand Detector recognizes that your wand wasn't stolen," Charlie said, as Hermione took back her wand.

"Stolen," Hermione repeated as a question.

Charlie thanked the aged lady as he turned away from her and placed one of his hands on Hermione's lower back, leading her towards the opposite end of the hall where a set of steel, silver doors sat.

"Romania has a lot of problems with poachers, mainly dragon poachers. The Wand Detector is used as a means to try and catch them before they can make it to the reserve," Charlie explained.

"But you said that the reserve is located deep in the Carpathian Mountains, right," Hermione offered, trying to ignore the electricity that was cackling under Charlie's touch.

"Right," he agreed.

"Then how are poachers able to locate the encampment?"

"Believe it or not, there is a huge network of poachers concerning wild animals in Eastern Europe, with dragons topping the list."

"What do these poachers go after," Hermione inquired.

"Dragon scales," Charlie remarked bitterly.

"Oh that's awful," Hermione replied, stopping to look at Charlie.

He stopped as well, removing his hand from her back, as he went on, "It is indeed horrible, but it's even worse as to how they remove their scales. Trust me, you don't want to know...it's quite gory."

"Well at least there is a system in place," Hermione commented. "Do you know if the Romanian Unitary Magical Republic catches a lot of poachers?"

"From what I've heard, a fair few, but the number of poachers entering into Romania has dwindled down recently."

Hermione thought about Charlie's statement for a moment before she assessed, "That means that they'll try and think of different ways of coming then, right?"

"Exactly," Charlie replied, nodding his head. "But we don't have to think about that right now. Do you want to take a quick look at the village just outside?"

"Of course," Hermione stated, as Charlie then walked beside her past the steel, silver doors, where they proceeded to make their way into an even larger hall than the one they had just exited.

"This is the atrium of the Romanian Ministry," Charlie said, "of course, it's not as large as the one in London, but I find it spectacular nonetheless."

Hermione silently agreed as she looked around and saw that the atrium was in the shape of a colossal circle, with steel silver doors, much like the ones she and Charlie had passed through seconds before, spaced out in even intervals in which Hermione assumed led off to different departments. In the center of the atrium, a large statue was situated: it was of a dragon that stood atop of a rock, while two tall trees flanked its sides, which was finished off with a demiguise scaling the dragon's back.

"Charlie," Hermione started, staring up at the massive figurine, "why is there a demiguise on top of the dragon on that statue?"

Charlie looked over at her and said, "Recently, the Transylvania region of Romania has seen quite the influx of demiguises from the Asian continent. Even though they're wicked hard to see, I've spotted several of them while hiking through the mountains on my days off."

"The dragons don't seem to mind them?"

"I don't think the dragons are even aware of them," Charlie responded. "So far, we haven't had a problem with the demiguises themselves, but we've been warned that they're sought after by poachers."

"It's because their hairs can be used in the creation of invisibility cloaks," Hermione thought aloud.

At this, Charlie fixed Hermione a funny look as he remarked, "You know, I've heard from Ron and Ginny that you were smart but I didn't know you knew everything!"

"Oh, honestly, I do not know everything!"

"To be fair, you know a good amount; probably the most of the people I've come across," Charlie replied.

"Well, I do tend to read a lot, you know that. That's where my knowledge comes from but it's not like I'm a genius or anything," Hermione said.

"You know, I think that you don't give yourself enough credit," Charlie retorted. "Knowledge is a good trait to have."

As Hermione continued to look up at Charlie, she recognized the fact that there was a gleam in his eyes when he spoke about possessing knowledge…something about it stirred feelings deep inside of her, as if dormant emotions had been brushed awake.

"You seem pretty knowledgeable yourself," Hermione composed back.

"I sure would hope so after years on the job! But anyway," he sighed, shaking his head back and forth softly, happiness spread over his features, "do you want to go and take a look at the village outside?"

"Yeah, let's go," Hermione answered, as she and Charlie walked side by side, over the polished brown floorboards. They made their way to the opposite end of the atrium where they walked through a set of glass doors to the outside. A mix of sun and clouds greeted them, along with a slight breeze that made Hermione slightly quiver with a chill.

Hermione then saw that they had made their way into a circular courtyard, its surface made of blue-colored cobblestones, which was surrounded by towering green trees. In the middle of the courtyard, another tall stone statue rested, but this one was of a man.

The pair walked up to it as Hermione asked, "Who is this, Charlie?"

"His name is Woan Engerton. He was the first recorded wizard to establish a magical community in Eastern Europe. This Romanian village is called Woan, in honor of him," Charlie explained.

After the two stared up at the statue for another minute, Charlie said, "Come on, there's more to see," and surprising Hermione, he gently grabbed her hand in his and pulled her along.

With his contact, Hermione felt a powerful voltage surge down to her core, while her heart began to hammer wildly against her chest. Even though holding hands was a simple practice, there was something different about it with Charlie Weasley. Not even a month ago would Hermione ever imagine that she would be strolling down a wizarding village in Romania, hand-in-hand with the second-oldest Weasley son.

Charlie and Hermione then walked out of the courtyard and down a narrow lane, also lined with soaring trees, before the pathway opened up into a wide street, much broader than that of Diagon Alley, where eight different shops were located, four on each side of the avenue made of smooth pavement, as the small village was starting to bristle with activity from early-morning shoppers.

Charlie pulled Hermione down the lane, as he started to point out the different stores to her.

"There's Exquisite Exhibition…they sell all kinds of fancy jewelry but I never had the need to check any out. And over there is the food market, In Toto Bodega; they sell lots of English food, too. One of my favorite places is this little shop right here. It's called Tallyfine's Bakery…the owner, Tallyfine, makes the best cakes."

Hermione smiled at how excited Charlie looked when he eyed the window display of the bakery, it hosting a multitude of delicious-looking sweets. She also saw that there was a bookstore she nearly dragged Charlie towards, called Tomes and Treatises; a postal service, named Delivery Assembly; a clothing shop, titled Garments of Gentlemen and Gentlewomen; an animal store, called Marmoo's All-Purpose Animals; and a fancy dining restaurant, Garden Aplenty, which was complimented by an outdoor eating area.

"This place is lovely," Hermione commented, looking around her, feeding into the framework of a true tourist.

"Well, I'm glad you like it," Charlie said, smiling at her. "Listen, do you think we can sit down on the bench over there? There's something I need to talk to you about."

"Oh, sure," Hermione replied, letting him lead her over to a nearby bench. On the way there, two women, that looked to be slightly older than Hermione, passed in front of Charlie and gave him a long, sultry look, though for his part, Charlie ignored them.

"What do you need to talk to me about," Hermione asked, once the two of them had taken a seat.

Charlie let go of her hand as he placed his own hand on the back of his neck, rubbing it.

"Well, you see, um, I completely forgot to mention this to you before, but uh, the dragon reserve workers…we all live in flats located on the encampment itself."

Hermione didn't understand what the problem was. She waited for him to continue, but when he didn't (as he instead decided to take in interest into picking away at a small hole in his jeans), she said, "Is there any trouble with that?"

"Kind of…the thing is, is that there aren't any extra flats available. The dragon reserve workers each has their own apartment and seeing that you are only going to be here for a week, the reserve director, my director, didn't see the need to construct a separate space for you," Charlie said, looking back and forth between the hole in his jeans and Hermione's eyes.

The full impact of what Charlie was telling her started to sink in.

"Oh…so, um, so where am I going to stay?"

At her question, Charlie's face flushed a brilliant red as he mumbled without looking at her, "My director said with me."

"W-With you," Hermione repeated, completely floored, her eyes growing twice its normal size, while her eyebrows surged into her hairline.

Seeing her reaction, Charlie sighed and said, "I'm sorry, Hermione. I, I don't know why I forgot to mention it to you before. I contacted my director not even two days ago, but it totally slipped my mind."

When Hermione didn't say anything, Charlie continued on, "I understand if you're uncomfortable staying with me, so I figured that you can stay in my flat and I can room with my mate, Terrance. That way, nothing will be awkward with us staying together. Does that sound okay?"

Charlie seemed to frantically search her face, trying to deduce if Hermione was comfortable with those arrangements for the following week.

Hermione, however, found that she wasn't at all comfortable with that arrangement at all.

"No, Charlie, it's your flat and I don't think I could sleep well at night having taken over your entire unit. You shouldn't have to room with your friend."

"Hermione, are you sure," he questioned, looking deep into her eyes.

"I'm positive," she said back.

"Only if you're sure…I just can't believe I forgot to tell you about this," he responded, looking as if he wanted to smack himself for forgetting.

"Don't worry about it, Charlie. It's not like it's that big of a deal."

"Thanks, Hermione," Charlie said, giving her a handsome smile. "Well, if you're absolutely sure that you're okay with rooming with me for the next week," Charlie clarified, pausing as Hermione nodded her head at him to let him know that she was going to be fine, "do you think you would want to check out the dragon reserve now?"

"Of course, but do you think we can stop by your flat first so that we can drop off our things," Hermione inquired.

"Sure, that's actually a better idea," he agreed, as he stood to his feet in which she did the same.

Just as Charlie opened his mouth to tell Hermione something, the two women that had passed in front of Charlie minutes before, fixing him with sensual looks, reappeared. One of them started conversing with him in Romanian while the other tried to hand him a piece of parchment. When he didn't take it, she leaned forward and stuffed it in his jeans pocket.

The look on Charlie's face grew more and more uncomfortable the longer they chatted as Hermione noticed that the two women gave her looks of sourness before they turned and walked away from them.

Hermione heard Charlie gulp loudly as she asked, "What was that about?"

"Nothing…they, um, just wanted me to stop by their place later," Charlie told her quietly.

"Stop by their place…why?"

At this, Charlie gave her a heated look in which Hermione registered what the two women wanted to do with Charlie.

"Oh," was all she could find to respond.

In the next moment, Charlie took out the piece of parchment one of the women had stuffed into his pocket, held it within the tips of his fingers, pointed his wand at it, and said, " _INCENDIO._ " Instantly, the parchment burst into flames as Charlie dropped it onto the ground, tearing the rest of it apart with his shoes into nothingness.

"Don't worry about them," Charlie said, though Hermione didn't understand what he meant. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," Hermione answered, nodding her head at him.

Charlie then grabbed her hand and pulled her against his side. He then planted a soft kiss on top of her head, but something in his actions didn't rest easy with her. However, before she could think over it, Charlie apparated away with her with a small _POP_.


	8. TAP

Hello all! Here is Chapter 8 of "Nocturnal"; I hope you enjoy it! Chapter 9 will be posted Wednesday morning! Thanks for reading.

* * *

Chapter 8: TAP

In the next instant, Hermione felt a still calm around her, an austere contrast to the beginning of the hustle and bustle of the early morning in Woan. After closing her eyes right before her and Charlie's apparition travel, she opened them and found that she was standing on a paved road, which led up to a beige, two-story building, flanked on both sides by tall trees, lined with windows and small terraces.

"So what do you think," Charlie asked, releasing Hermione from his hold and staring up at the edifice.

"This is where you live," Hermione inquired, looking over at him.

He fixed his gaze on her as he replied, "Yep. This building is where all of our flats are."

Hermione nodded her head in understanding before she questioned, "Is the dragon reserve close by then?"

Charlie smiled before nodded his head behind him and he told her softly, "Turn around."

She did as she was told, with Charlie following in-tune beside her. The first thing Hermione saw was a large circular, striped tent, colored in a bright orange and a deep violet, reminding Hermione of a Muggle circus her mum and dad had taken her to one time before when she was little.

"That's the Center for Directions," Charlie informed her gently, "it's where all of the reserve workers gather if there is a serious issue that arises concerning the encampment. It also serves as an entrance to the actual dragon reserve."

"The actual dragon reserve," Hermione replicated.

Charlie nodded his head but didn't elaborate on the subject further.

"Come on," he then began, "let's stop by my flat first and I'll show you around the reserve."

He turned around and started to walk up towards the two-story structure, in which Hermione now knew housed the workers' flats, as she stepped in next to him.

"It's not that bad you know," Charlie suddenly said, making Hermione look up at him quizzically.

"Living on the reserve," he answered, seeing the look on her face.

"It's completely different from what I thought it was going to be like," Hermione stated.

"Is that a bad thing or a good thing?"

"I don't think it's bad or good…it's just different," Hermione explained.

"Did you think we all would be living in tents with the dragons right next to us," Charlie inquired, though Hermione detected that there was a fair bit of humor in his voice.

"Well, the thought crossed my mind," Hermione said rather sheepishly. "It's just that I've never read of a dragon encampment before is all."

While a few stray clouds passed over the face of the sun and a warm breeze blew over the pair that was approaching the flats, Charlie said aloud, "I think many people think that living on a dragon reserve is like living in the woods. I mean, technically speaking, it is, but if we have the ability to make ourselves comfortable, than we will. Mum thought what you did, Hermione: she was worried that the dragons would attack the tents we were living in at night when we were all sleeping."

"Well, I think that that is a valid concern," Hermione said looking up at him.

"You're right, it is; although, dad quite liked the idea of living in close proximity with dragons."

"Did your mum get over her fears of you living close to dragons after she and your dad visited you," Hermione questioned.

Charlie stopped walking at her words and turned to face her, one of his eyebrows quirked upwards.

"How'd you know that mum and dad came to visit me before?"

"Oh," Hermione started, pink circles growing on her cheeks as she stopped as well, "I remember when Ron told Harry and me that they visited you back in our first year over the winter holiday."

"Right, um, yeah, she was somewhat pleased with the living arrangements," he said as they both started walking again.

"Somewhat pleased," Hermione picked up.

"Yeah, it's like I told you before: mum was never really the one who liked the idea that I worked with dragons for a living; she rather I worked at the Ministry of Magic," Charlie responded.

At this time, Charlie and Hermione approached the front doors of the building. Charlie took out his wand and waved it in one fluid motion in the air as a loud sound of a _CLICK_ was heard.

"It's an unlocking charm," Charlie explained to Hermione, as they both proceeded to walk forward and pass through the double glassed doors, "some time ago, before I came to work on the reserve, a dragon poacher, who had just been released from Azkaban, infiltrated these flats and murdered the director who had caught him in the pens of one of our dragons."

"That's terrible," Hermione commented, growing wide-eyed at the story of hostility.

Charlie nodded his head in agreement as he continued, "Ever since then, a locking charm has been instilled on these flats to prevent another tragedy like that. Well, come on, I'll show you around a bit."

Hermione followed Charlie through the doors. Once inside, she saw that they had entered into a foyer, in which a wooden staircase stood, leading up to the second level. Beyond the small entrance hall, a much larger area rested, decked in tables scattered about with chairs surrounding each one, while a large, stone fireplace adorned one wall. The floors were carpeted in maroon while two hallways extended in opposite directions of each other from the lobby.

"So, this passage," Charlie began, pointing to their left, has some of the flats with the rest of them on the second floor. The other corridor here," he continued, pointing to their right, "has a dining hall, a drinking room, a Healing Ward and a library."

"A library," Hermione said, wondering if she had heard right.

"Yes, a library," Charlie said, laughing softly to himself.

"It's nice," Hermione commented.

"That the reserve has a library," Charlie asked.

This time, Hermione laughed aloud as she said, "No…well, yes, I'm glad that there is a library, but I was talking about the building itself."

"Oh," Charlie said, the back of his neck growing hot, "yeah, it's g-good."

As Hermione continued to look at him, he then said, "I'll show you up to my room."

Charlie then made his way over to the staircase and started to climb it with Hermione behind him.

"I should tell you that my room isn't the biggest, as most of the rooms here at pretty small. It has one bedroom and bath, a living area, a kitchenette, and a balcony…it's nothing special," Charlie told Hermione as they continued to ascend the stairs.

"Are the rooms smaller because most of the workers spend their time with the dragons," Hermione asked, feeling that she already knew the answer.

"Yes, almost-,"

However, before Charlie could continue, a familiar voice abruptly stopped him in his tracks, causing Hermione to run into his back.

She started to apologize but her voice was drowned out by, "Char! 'Mione! How ya doin'?"

Over Charlie's shoulder, Hermione saw Phillip Soren standing upon the landing they were heading towards, the fellow reserve worker whom she had might back in Diagon Alley the day she and Charlie went to pick up their dress robes for the Hogwarts' Banquet.

"Phillip," Charlie said unenthusiastically, "back already from your few days off?"

"That's what it looks like, don't it, Char," he said in an excited manner, a huge smile lining his face. "I just got back a day 'go. What's 'Mione doing with ya?"

"I took a job with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," Hermione answered just as Charlie opened his mouth to speak. As she took another step up so that she and Charlie were resting upon the same one, she continued, "Mr. McGill assigned me to help Charlie oversee the operations of the new reserve in Wales."

"Well whaddya know? McGill set you and this bird up together, Char!"

"What," Hermione questioned innocently, not understanding the exchange.

Charlie glared up at Phillip as he said coldly, "Mind your words, Phillip."

"Oh, come on, Char! Don't take everything so seriously! Anyway, I'm glad I ran into the two of ya! Tomorrow night, I'm having a little get together for my birthday," Phillip informed them.

"It's your birthday," Hermione asked.

"It was yesterday actually but I got back pretty late and was too tired to have a celebration, and I'm working all day today, but I'm most definitely gonna have one tomorrow night and you guys are invited! In fact, I plan on inviting all of the workers as well!"

"That sounds wonderful," Hermione replied, though as she said this she saw Charlie's head whip over to her giving her an astonished look.

"You bet it is! Listen, if you guys come by my place at seven tomorrow, the party will be in full swing! Anyway, I got to go down to the encampment and invite the others, then I'll pick up the cake I ordered in Woan after work tomorrow. I'll see ya two later!"

With that, Phillip gave them a wave and another smile, before he darted down the staircase and exited the building.

When he was gone, Charlie continued to make his way up the staircase with Hermione following. As they reached the second-floor landing, Charlie turned to her and queried, "You're not really thinking about going to Phillip's party, are you?"

"Why wouldn't we go," she asked back, "he was nice enough to invite us."

"Yeah but he also nice enough to invite the entire reserve," Charlie responded.

"You don't like him that much, do you," Hermione gathered.

As Charlie shook his head lightly from side to side, Hermione pursued further.

"Why not?"

Charlie sighed as he said, "I'll tell you inside."

Hermione wondered what Phillip could have done to Charlie that made Charlie dislike him so much; it seemed as if they were both nice and generous people.

Charlie walked up to his room door and waved his wand again in an intricate pattern. A second later, Hermione heard a series of locks clicking open as his door swung forward, emitting the two of them entry.

"Well, come in," Charlie said, "and I'll give you a small tour, though there's much to show."

She followed him inside and shut the door behind her as he shrugged off his backpack and set it down next to a couch.

"So here's the living room," Charlie said, giving his hand a little wave. Hermione looked around and saw that besides the small couch Charlie had set his backpack down next to, there was a brown coffee table, two comfortable-looking armchairs, and a small fireplace.

"Next we have the kitchenette," he continued, walking forward and showing Hermione a small range of appliances, paired together with a table, which Hermione set her beaded bag down upon, and four chairs seated around it.

After Hermione followed Charlie down a short, white carpeted hallway, lined with moving pictures of different dragons, they came upon two doors as he said, "The bathroom is here," pointing to a door on his right, "and my bedroom is here," he finished, pushing open the door on his left.

"It's nice," Hermione commented, after taking a quick look inside his bedroom, which, she noted, was surprisingly clean.

Charlie snorted before he replied, "It's not that much, Hermione."

"It doesn't have to be," she said back to him. "All anything matters about a home is how you feel about it at the end of a long day."

Charlie smiled at her as he responded, "You're right. I feel good about this place…it'll be said to leave it behind, I guess, after the week is over."

As Hermione nodded her head, he then walked back towards the kitchen area as he asked her, "So are you hungry? Do you want a bite to eat or something?"

"Charlie, we didn't eat that long ago," she said, following him.

"I'm just trying to be hospitable," he retorted with a small shrug of his shoulders.

"Well thank you, but I'm not hungry."

"Are you thirsty? I've got some water and pumpkin juice, I think."

"I'm fine," Hermione smiled.

Charlie nodded as he then said, "I guess you're anxious to hear about Phillip and I, aren't you?"

"If you don't want to tell me, then you don't have to," Hermione offered, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"It's not like that," Charlie said, motioning for Hermione to take a seat at the kitchen table while he sat opposite her, "it's just that he went a bit funny."

"I suppose you don't mean 'funny' in a comical way, do you?"

Charlie barked out a laugh before he shook his head from side to side, replying, "No, nothing like that."

"Then what do you mean?"

"Well, I already told you that when he came to the reserve, he was really excited about working with dragons. He was like the overly-animated kid that no one wanted to work with. Even though he wasn't that well-liked, he was smart, incredibly smart. He could throw at you random facts about all different kinds of dragons not even found on this continent. Anyway, things changed when he was paired together with my best mate, Terrance.

"It was his first real day on the job working with dragons when Terrance sent us an emergency message that Phillip had apparently tried to enter one of the enclosures of two mating Hungarian Horntails. All of the workers rushed over to help him and sure enough, when we got there, he was knocked out cold while the two dragons hovered over him. We hatched a plan to rescue him but the Horntails were already riled up because of mating season."

Charlie paused as Hermione noticed that a dark look had crossed over his face, like shadows extinguishing candles of light.

"The rescue mission turned out to be a disaster: half of our team got burned with serious injuries, two or three had several broken bones, and one worker, Ray Worton, was killed."

Hermione gasped loudly, clapping both of her hands over her mouth in shock.

"Worton was the same age as me, and went to Hogwarts with me as well; he was in Ravenclaw. Anyway, we finally managed to rescue Phillip from the enclosure and we brought him to Healing Ward downstairs. He took a week to come to and when he did, he was changed."

"Changed how," Hermione questioned in a soft voice.

"For one, he didn't have any memory of the events of what had happened before. He didn't have any idea how he came to be by himself with the two Hungarian Horntails, he didn't know who anyone was, and he forgot all about working with dragons."

"Is it possible that he was put under a memory charm," Hermione inquired.

"It's possible but why would there be any reason to do so," Charlie retorted. "Phillip was annoying, yes, but he wasn't a bad person."

"Well if he forgot about working with dragons, why is he still here? Isn't it dangerous for him and everyone else," Hermione questioned.

"The director of the reserve, Director Mulligan, seems to have a soft spot for Phillip, and decided that all of the reserve workers would pitch in to retrain him and have him stay here," Charlie answered.

"How long ago did this happen?"

"Not even a year yet…but it feels like a lifetime ago," Charlie said.

"I'm sorry about Ray Worton," Hermione then issued, "it seems like you and him were pretty close."

"Me, him, and Terrance were all good friends with each other," Charlie told her, "but we all knew the dangers of working with dragons."

"So you still have hard feelings against Phillip, then?"

Charlie nodded his head in answer, looking away from her face.

"Do all of the other workers as well?"

"As far as I know, only Terrance does. The rest of them still think he's more of a nuisance than anything," Charlie replied.

"Well has he at least gotten better working with dragons?"

"A bit," Charlie relayed, "but it's been a slow process with him."

"I know it's hard for you to talk about this, but something seems strange about Phillip's story," Hermione then remarked.

"Strange," Charlie asked.

"It's like it doesn't all add up to make sense. I mean, you said that Phillip knew all these facts about all different kinds of dragons which would mean that he's pretty knowledgeable about them. If he did, then why would he try to enter the enclosure of two mating Hungarian Horntails?"

"Since Phillip has no recollection of that day, I don't know. But Hermione, working around dragons is a dangerous job; we can't afford little mistakes at the expense of our own lives."

"What if it wasn't a mistake, Charlie, of what happened to Phillip?"

"What are you suggesting," he questioned, leaning forward in his chair as he rested his arms atop of his kitchen table.

"I'm just saying that from how you described Phillip before, he wouldn't be the kind of worker to make a little mistake."

"We're all human; mistakes from us are common."

"Possibly," Hermione concurred, though in her mind, something was telling her that the situation surrounding Phillip and that fateful day had more to it than what Charlie told her. Hermione also wondered if Charlie knew of all of the implications himself. To Hermione, there was something about it that just didn't make sense.

"Well," Charlie then said, bringing Hermione out of her mild stupor, "I did tell you that I was going to show you around the enclosure. Do you want to go and see some dragons?"

At this, a smile lit up Hermione's face as she nodded her head, while she stored her thoughts over Phillip in the back of her mind.

"Let's go then," Charlie suggested as he stood up from the kitchen table as Hermione did the same.

They made their way out of his flat, down the hallway and stairs, and out of the building. The pair then walked over the paved road and approached the Center of Directions tent.

"Do you want to take a quick look inside," Charlie queried, nodding his head towards the pavilion's opening.

"Sure," Hermione responded before Charlie led the way inside.

Hermione looked around once she stepped within and saw that the tent was much larger from the inside than it appeared from its exterior. She noticed that a dozen small tables were set against the sides of the pergola, as a large variety of meats and herbs were upon each one, chopped into large chunks by a charmed knife before it disappeared into thin air.

"The meat and herbs goes to the other tents near the dragons," Charlie said, making Hermione turn to look at him.

This confused Hermione for she asked, "Aren't we near the dragons now?"

"Not exactly," he responded. "Come here and I'll show you what I mean."

He led her over to the center of the marquee was a bulky table rested that had a map fixated on its surface.

"It's a chart of the entire dragon encampment," Charlie started to explain. Hermione looked down at the large piece of parchment and saw that littered over the map were tiny pictures of dragons each within their own enclosure, as each dragon pictorial had its name attached to it. There were also small dots that were each labeled with a name as well; it reminded Hermione of the Marauder's Map.

"This tells us where each dragon is at any certain time. It's useful when a dragon escapes or when we have unwelcome guests that infiltrate the reserve," Charlie continued.

"Meaning poachers?"

Charlie nodded his head in answer.

"You see, the entire dragon reserve is split into three separate enclosures: the first is where the mild dragons reside, the second is where the dangerous dragons are, while the third is where the most vicious are. The workers call it TAP."

"TAP," Hermione questioned, her brow furrowing together.

"Yep, TAP," Charlie said. "Tepid for the mild dragons," he started, holding up one finger, "Alarm for the dangerous dragons," he continued, holding up a second finger, "and Primitive for the vicious dragons," he finished, holding up a third finger. "They're all divided into their individual sections on the reserve."

"How large is the total encampment," Hermione asked.

"Quite large, but even with all of the space we have in Romania, we're still running somewhat low on room, which is one of the primary reasons why the new reserve is opening in Wales. Come on, let's go see some dragons," Charlie exclaimed, grabbing Hermione's hand in his.

While feeling a bolt of electricity surge up her arm, Charlie led her out of the opposite end of the tent they had entered through as Hermione then saw stone steps that led down to a small, flat area made of dirt, in which three colossal archways made of rock stood, as towering trees surrounded each one.

After the pair walked down the five steps of stone, Hermione stared into each archway in which blackness stared back at her; it looked like a dark hole of nothingness.

"Charlie, what are these three archways here for?"

He turned towards her and replied, "This is TAP, Hermione. The one on the left is Tepid, the one in the middle is Alarm, and the one on the right is Primitive. This is what I meant when I said that the dragons are divided into their individual sections."

"So the dragons from the different categories never interact with each other," she asked.

"No, not unless the dragons find a way to escape their individual habitations, but that's never happened before," he replied. "Also, no one can apparate anywhere past these arches."

"Is that because of dragon poachers," Hermione surmised.

"Yeah, we got the Romanian Unitary Magical Republic's permission to place Anti-Appiration Wards over the area where the dragons reside."

"Can we go into one of them," Hermione asked after a small moment of silence, pointing with her free hand to one of the archways, as her other hand was still occupied by that of Charlie's.

He smiled over at her as he replied, "Of course! That's why I brought you here! Which one do you want to go into?"

Hermione thought for a long minute before she replied, "I think we should start with the Tepid dragons."

"Alright, let's go then," Charlie said, giving Hermione's hand a small squeeze and walking forward.

As they passed under the archway, Hermione could not help but think how tiny there were compared with the structure; it was like they were miniscule fairies wandering in the land of giants.

As the darkness started to enfold them, Charlie took out his wand, pointed it an object Hermione couldn't see and said, " _INCENDIO_." Instantly, a bracket that was glued to the wall was aflame, casting the tunnel in an orange glow.

Hermione looked around her and saw that the walls of the tunnel had encryptions carved upon it, as well as drawings of what looked like savage beasts. Dirt and a small collection of leaves littered their pathway, while Hermione felt a cool air rush through the passageway, even though she knew that the sun was plastered against the blue sky beyond it.

"Charlie," Hermione started, making him look over at her, "how long are these tunnels?"

"Not too long; this one ends right around this bend over there," he responded, gesturing towards a leftward curve in the walls. "The middle one is the longest but it's just a straight pathway, while the last tunnel curves to the right."

Sure enough, after Charlie and Hermione walked around the bend, another large archway stood; however, this time, Hermione spotted several workers running about over a green pasture, as, what looked like to Hermione, flames were protruding from holes in the ground randomly.

"Charlie, is that where the dragons are kept," Hermione asked, looking towards another bout of flame that shot into the air from a hole in the ground.

Charlie followed Hermione's gaze before he smiled.

"Come on, let's go see." Pulling her forward, the two exited the tunnel, passing under a second arch, as they entered into a large field, void of any trees besides the one that surrounded it.

Hermione heard low roars and rumbles around her while Charlie's smile grew wider and wider, as he had clearly missed his dragons after spending months away from them.

Passing by a circular white tent, the two made their way over to a large, circular hole in the ground, in which a low stone wall prevented anyone from falling into it. However, once Hermione and Charlie stepped closer it, Hermione saw that the hole in the ground was more like a pit, carved with jagged rocks and stone. It was then that she spotted a beautiful purple dragon drinking from a small pool near the bottom of the crater.

"This, Hermione, is where we keep each dragon of ours in Romania," Charlie said, pointing over towards the pit.

Hermione said, "Isn't it too small for a dragon?"

"Not all pits are of the same size. This one, in particular, is the home of an Italian Pupil, one of the smallest dragons we have here," Charlie explained. "Of course, the bigger dragons get the biggest pens."

As Hermione nodded in understanding, she then asked, "And what if the dragons decided to fly away? Couldn't they do that?"

At this, Charlie suggested, "Try walking over this stone wall."

"What," Hermione questioned, not sure if she had heard him correctly.

"Try going over the stone wall," he said again, nodding his head at the low wall that acted as a barrier surrounding the pit.

Hermione let go of Charlie's hand as she tried to do as he said. However, she found that she could not for she was restricted access from it.

"I can't," Hermione said at last.

"Each pen has a Restriction Charm placed over it, barring easy access to the individual dragons. In the same way, our dragons are unable to fly away."

"So the workers never enter the pens?"

"We do from time to time, but with these dragons, it's sometimes unnecessary as they are tame. It's the workers in the Alarm and Primitive sections that have their work cut out for them."

"Do you rotate workers so that everyone can work in different sections," Hermione asked.

"Yep, every week we have a new schedule drafted for us," Charlie answered without any hesitation.

"But if you need to enter the pens for whatever reason, how do you do it?"

"When we get our schedules at the beginning of every week, our names are automatically transferred upon a binding piece of parchment that permits us entry into each dragon pen of our assigned section. For example, the week before I left to go back home, I was assigned to the Alarm dragons. My name was then registered on a piece of parchment that allowed me to go into whichever dragon pit I needed to in that section."

"Is this parchment real or are we talking along the lines of theory," Hermione inquired.

"We're talking along literal lines, actually," Charlie said, his eyes alit with humor, "the parchment sits in the tent back there." Hermione looked over to where Charlie had pointed at and saw the white tent they had passed by after they had exited the tunnel. "That's also where the food that we saw in the Center for Directions tent goes."

As Hermione looked back at Charlie, she then asked with interest, "Is something funny? You look as if you are about to burst out laughing."

"No, it's just that I like all the questions you ask me," Charlie responded. "I like how interested you are in the operations of the reserve."

"Oh, well, it's my job this week to learn all about it, isn't it?"

"It is but there's this sense of innocent curiousness about you that I find really-," Charlie however, suddenly stopped talking.

Confusion formed in Hermione's mind as she began to look around her but saw no one nearby.

"Charlie…are you okay," she questioned, looking up at his face, searching for answers as to why he didn't finish his statement.

"Um, no, I mean yes, yeah I-I'm fine," he stammered.

"So what is it," Hermione asked after a moment.

"What's what?"

"You said before that there's this sense of innocent curiousness about me that you find…but you never finished," Hermione reminded him.

"Oh, that…it's not important," he replied, though Hermione saw that his cheeks began to color red.

Hermione wondered what Charlie was going to say and thought about questioning him further, until the Italian Pupil distracted her, for the dragon was now flapping its wings, keeping it eye-level with Charlie and Hermione.

The two turned to look at it as Hermione saw that the dragon was looking over at her inquisitively like a brand new piece of specimen, as she guessed the creature had seen Charlie numerous times before.

Hermione saw the Italian Pupil was purple, as its underbelly was made of beautiful violet scales. The eyes of the dragon were of a soft ivory green while smoke issued from its snout.

"Is this dragon a he or a she," Hermione asked Charlie, as they continued to stand side-by-side, their arms brushing one another's.

"A she," Charlie answered, "her name is Alda."

"I think she's beautiful," Hermione commented, smiling over at the dragon.

"She is magnificent," Charlie agreed softly, as the dragon, having lost interest in the two humans that were conversing about it, flew back down into its pit and situated itself on top of a smooth piece of stone.

Charlie turned to look at Hermione as she turned her head to gaze up at him.

"What is it, Charlie," Hermione said, "You look like you want to say something."

"I was just thinking about something is all," he replied.

"What are you thinking about?"

He sighed as he replied, "About asking you to dinner."

Hermione looked at him with wide-eyes, as she began to register what he had said.

"A-Asking me to d-diner," she repeated, in which he nodded his head. "Do you mean, like, tonight?" Charlie nodded his head once again.

"I mean, you don't have to and all, it was just a suggestion you know, but we can stay in or have dinner with other workers if you want," Charlie rambled, looking away from her.

"I'd like to go to dinner with you, actually," Hermione said softly.

At this, Charlie looked over at her again and said, "Really?"

"Yeah," Hermione replied, nodding her head. "Where did you want to go?"

"I was thinking about going back to Woan, to the restaurant called Garden Aplenty. I haven't been there all that much but some reserve workers have and they told me the food is excellent."

"That sounds great," Hermione noted, "but can I ask you a question?"

"You can ask me anything," Charlie responded with a smile.

"Why did you suddenly think of dinner right now?"

At this, Charlie laughed as he said, "My idea of asking you to dinner didn't just pop into my head. I've been thinking about it ever since we came to Romania this morning."

As Hermione started to comprehend what Charlie had said, he grabbed her hand again and told her, "Come on, there's more dragons to see."

With that, the pair took off to a different dragon pen, smiles coating both of their faces, their hearts skipping every other beat in anticipation for the dinner ahead.


	9. A Somber Birthday

Hello everyone! Here is Chapter 9 of "Nocturnal." I know this chapter is longer than my previous ones, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Chapter 10 will be posted this Saturday night! Thanks for reading.

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Chapter 9: A Somber Birthday

After spending the day exploring the Tepid dragon pen, Charlie and Hermione washed up, and then apparated to Woan that very night, under an ocean of stars. As Charlie had explained to Hermione already that the eatery they were going to, Garden Aplenty, served more of a high-end, sophisticated class of witches and wizards in Romania, she had transfigured her plain shirt and jeans into a dark blue blouse, paired together with a simple, black skirt that hugged her hips and barely touched her knees, while Charlie wore a plain, white, buttoned-down dress shirt with black slacks. His short bright, red hair was combed off to the side, styled and gelled as if he was a dashing businessman, rather than a rowdy dragon-handler.

Before entering into the restaurant, Hermione looked down the busy night street of Woan and saw that nocturnal customers were still going about their activities, with Tallyfine's Bakery hosting more than a fine number of guests, as all of the rest of the shops' lights shone brightly, as if Woan was a stage and its occupants were all cast mates acting in a Romanian drama, set to the ballad of a cool breeze and a chorus of voices.

Charlie and Hermione stepped inside Garden Aplenty and the first thing that Hermione noticed was that a large, white piano was centered in the middle of the room, a single spotlight on it, charmed to play itself, its keys depicting a soft tune that penetrated Hermione's ears like a rustling of diamonds among dark forest greens. The tables in the dimly-lit restaurant were situated around it upon a smooth, polished wooden floor, as a low rumble of voices from the already-seated attendees crept up to a medium roar.

"Table for two," a squeaky voice suddenly asked.

Charlie and Hermione looked down and saw a house-elf looking up at them expectantly, it wearing a flat, brown wool tweed hat across its chest like a plate of armor, tied across its back with a thin piece of string, along with men's boxer shorts.

"Uh, yeah, two please," Charlie said a bit uneasily, unsure as to how he felt about this house-elf showing them to their seats as he noticed Hermione had crossed her arms over her chest, whilst a harrowing look infiltrated her usually warm, brown eyes.

With its over-large ears flapping away atop its head, the house-elf led them to an empty table, donned in a fine, white cloth near the far end of the space, it situated next to a glossy, stained-glass window. As Charlie and Hermione took their seats across from each other, the house-elf snapped its fingers as a candle suddenly appeared, it alighting with a flickering, yellow flame, while a thin, glass vase also materialized, as in it, a green vine rested, with red roses beginning to blossom over it.

"What can Wormey get for mister and missus tonight," the house-elf piped in a shrill voice.

"Wormey," Hermione repeated, both looking and sounding confused.

"Yes, my name is Wormey," the house-elf replied, with a large smiled fixated over its face.

"Well, Wormey," Charlie began, feeling odd calling the house-elf a name he would normally associate with mere snacks for his smallest of dragons, "this is the first time me and Hermione have been here. Do you have any menus for us to look at?"

With another snap of his twig-like fingers, two rolls of thick parchment appeared, one in front of Charlie, as the other floated down in front of Hermione.

"I'll give mister and missus a few minutes," Wormey said, and scuttled away.

As Charlie started to look over dining items, Hermione's voice interrupted his thinking as she stated, "Oh, how awful."

Charlie looked up at her and asked innocently, "What? Does nothing here look good to you?"

Hermione redirected her gaze at him as she explained, "No, I mean the house-elves."

"What about them," Charlie inquired.

"Look at them," Hermione instructed lightly. Charlie did as he was told and saw that about half a dozen house-elves were bobbing their way in between tables, rushing about like a mad dash of pearls that had been scattered across the floor. "They look like slaves."

Charlie was about to say, 'Well they are,' but thought better of it and instead replied, "Hermione, we don't know how they're treated; we just got here. For all we know, they could have weeks off at a time and paid vacations."

Hermione looked over at him with a look that spoke volumes, it nearly screaming that she didn't believe him in the slightest.

"Why don't we ask Wormey when he gets back then," Charlie suggested, quirking up an eyebrow, "he seems like a nice right fellow…I'm sure he would tell us."

"We should do that," Hermione agreed, nodding her head, a look of determination crossing over her face.

After a minute's quiet of the pair looking over their individual carte du jour, Charlie broke the silence as he questioned, "So, does anything appeal to your tastes tonight?"

Hermione looked up at him once again and answered, "Well, I guess everything looks fine but I can't understand it."

"Oh, sorry! I forgot that this is all in Romanian," Charlie exclaimed, growing wide-eyed at his hiccup. "Yeah, let's see what we got here," he started again, turning his menu towards Hermione and pointing with his finger. "This here is lamb chops and vegetables; the next one is roast beef and dried pudding...hmm, I never heard of 'dried pudding' before; there's also some ethnic Romanian foods, like smoked bacon, cabbage rolls, corn meal with salted cheese and sour cream, and my personal favorite, bean soup with hocks."

"The wizarding community incorporates Muggle foods in Romania," Hermione asked with interest.

"Yep," Charlie responded, nodding his head, "unlike too much at home. Sometimes I think witches and wizards back in Great Britain are behind the rest of the magic peoples in other parts of the world, especially in other parts of Europe; that's what it seems like at least."

"I think it's a great idea," Hermione said. "It could give a different perception in what some witches and wizards think of Muggles…it could even have a positive effect."

"You're right," Charlie concurred, "the only limitation would be is to push for witches and wizards back home to try Muggle things. I mean, you see how some react to dad playing around with Muggle artifacts."

"Yes but your dad places importance in, well, sort of strange Muggle objects, like spark plugs, which is something regular Muggles would not even think twice about," Hermione countered with well-intent.

Charlie opened his mouth, then closed it, opened it once more, before snapping it shut. Seeming to think her statement over, he finally responded, "I guess you're right about that."

As the two smiled over to each other, the same high-pitched voice Charlie and Hermione were now growing accustomed to, abruptly broke their milieu as Wormey asked, "Has mister and missus decided on what to eat yet?"

Charlie looked over at Hermione who gave a nod of her head. Charlie then directed his attention back onto the elf as he said, "We have, but before we tell you what we want, we have some questions for you if that's alright?"

"Questions…for Wormey," the house-elf piped, its big, tennis-ball shaped eyes started to swim with unshed tears.

"Wormey, are you okay," Hermione asked in concern, as Charlie took in the elf's rapid outward change.

"Yes," Wormey nearly whispered, "but Wormey has never before been asked if it is alright to ask Wormey questions."

"Oh," Hermione stuttered, clearly not expecting the reason for the house-elf's eroding placating façade, "all we wanted to know is if you are treated fairly."

This appeared to be too much for Wormey to handle, for the house-elf threw himself face down upon the floor with its skinny arms outstretched in front of him, crying out, "Oh, mister and missus is too kind; much too kind for Wormey to serve!"

"Wormey…Wormey, it's okay," Hermione tried to console, getting up from her chair and kneeling towards the whimpering house-elf, while Charlie repeated her actions, not paying any attention to the prying eyes of the tables nearby.

As Wormey started to get his emotions back in check, Hermione patted its back albeit somewhat awkwardly, as if she was consoling a small child.

"Are you going to be okay," Hermione asked tenderly.

The house-elf, who had since picked itself up off of the floor, looked over at Hermione, its face masking one of a waterfall that had long dried up, its orb-like eyes seeming to grow twice its normal size.

"You is not a normal witch," Wormey stated, before turning to Charlie and saying, "and you is not a normal wizard."

"You could count us as such," Charlie replied back, giving his shoulders a small shrug while grinning over at Hermione afterwards, making her do the same. "So do you think you're going to be alright," Charlie questioned, noticing he did not answer Hermione's question.

Wormey nodded his head, as he slowly stood to his feet but not before grabbing the white tablecloth and harshly blowing his nose into it, drawing scandalous looks from close by dinner guests. Hermione sat back in her seat, while Charlie made to follow her actions, though prior to doing so, he drew his wand and whispered, " _EVANESCO_ ," making Wormey's dried bogies disappear into nothingness.

"What did mister and missus want to ask Wormey," the house-elf started, its large eyes darting back and forth between the pair.

Hermione gave Charlie a quick glance before she said calmly, "Well, we wanted to know if you're treated fairly at this restaurant."

Once again Wormey's eyes started to water while his lips started to quiver, before the house-elf was able to hold its emotions in check as he answered in a wavering voice, "Oh yes, Wormey is treated very fairly here in Romania and in Garden Aplenty!"

"But how is it that you're able to speak English," Charlie noted, "You don't seem like you have any type of accent on you."

"Wormey is from Wales, mister and missus, I was freed by the house of my master's!"

Charlie noticed that Hermione's face scrunched up in misunderstanding, as she voiced, "You were freed by your master's?"

"Yes," the house-elf said, it's voice dropping by several volumes, "Wormey served a very powerful but bad family."

Hermione sensed that this was as far as Wormey was willing to speak about his past family, as she saw that the house-elf was starting to look around in alarm as if it thought a bolt of lightning was going to crash down upon him for even thinking to articulate ill nuances of his past overlords.

"So how'd you come to work here in Garden Aplenty," Charlie queried.

"After Wormey was set free, Wormey had to find employment, because Wormey likes to serve!" At this, Charlie looked over at Hermione whose brow was furrowed into a single line on her head. "The wizard who owned Garden Aplenty saw Wormey and asked if I would like to come and work for him, and Wormey said 'yes!'" The house-elf, conversing now of labor, was nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet, bubbly with excitement.

"Do you get paid for the work you do, or do you get any days off," Hermione asked.

"Oh yes, Wormey gets paid by this," the house-elf proclaimed, pounding its tweed hat proudly as if it was a prized trophy, "this is my thirty-seventh!"

"Thirty-seventh," Charlie repeated incredulously.

"Yes, each for the number of weeks Wormey has worked here," the house-elf stated.

"Well, I guess that's something then, isn't it," Hermione remarked more to herself.

"So has mister and missus decided what they would like to eat yet?"

"Um, yeah, yeah we have," Charlie finalized, nodding his head. "Hermione, what would you like?"

"I'll have the bean soup with hocks," she said.

"Really? You're going to try it," Charlie questioned, looking rather amazed.

"You said it's your personal favorite, so I'm willing to try it. Also, while we're in Romania, we might as well try their local foods."

Charlie nodded his head at her, turned to Wormey and said, "Make the two bean soups and hocks," holding up two fingers. "Also, could we get two glasses of Pumpkin Juice as well?"

The house-elf nodded his head, saying, "Wormey will report this to the kitchens right away, mister and missus!" With another snap of his fingers, their menus disappeared as he scurried away from their table, nearly bowling over three other house-elves in the process.

As Hermione watched him go, Charlie said, "Satisfied?"

Hermione looked over at him questioningly, she relayed, "That Wormey gets some compensation for the work that he does?"

Charlie nodded his head as Hermione went on, "At least it's something."

"I think it's a pretty efficient system, actually."

Hermione gazed over at him for a long moment before she asked lightly, "Would you like to get paid in tweed hats for your work on the dragon reserve, Charlie?"

"Seeing as I don't own any of those types of hats myself, I think it's a fair bargain," he replied, making her laugh.

As the piano continued to softly play in the background, greeting each patron as they entered, dined, and exited the fancy bistro, a smooth rhythm of conversation continued to flow around each table and each guest, intertwining with stories that were laughed at, condolences that were passed to, and sparks that ignited.

"Charlie, why did you bring me here," Hermione asked him after a while, waiting for their food, as he softly tickled one of the roses that had bloomed upon their initial seating at their table.

"I told you, I began thinking about it ever since we came to Romania," he reiterated though he felt himself flush in the candlelight.

"Was there another reason," she questioned.

He looked over at her, seeing that she had a genuine curiosity about her that was plastered over her face.

"What d'you mean?"

"Well it's not like you thought of bringing me here to this restaurant the moment we stepped foot in Romania," Hermione replied.

"I don't think there has to be a specific reason to take you out, do you," he contradicted.

"No, I never said there had to be, but something tells me there is a specific reason," she said back. "We could've as easily stayed at your place for the evening and had dinner there."

"And have you miss out visiting the only wizarding community in all of Romania," Charlie thwarted, throwing his hands into the air. "You're not complaining, are you?" By his question, Hermione thought she heard a lace of trepidation in his voice, an ounce so small that she might have just imagined it.

"No, I'm not complaining at all! I think this place is actually lovely," she constituted.

"The area or this restaurant?"

"Both," she responded simply with a small smile.

"I wanted you to have a good time here, in Romania, Hermione, with me," Charlie said softly over to her, the burning candles and red roses situated between them. "I wanted to take you out before but I didn't because of mum."

As Charlie's words penetrated Hermione's system, her brain activity kicked into overdrive while her heart began to hammer out of time. Did Charlie Weasley just say what Hermione thought he did? She continued to look over at him, though he didn't seem to notice as his eyes now were focused upon the small flame that was dancing, waving off to one side every now and then. To Hermione, he seemed to be playing a guessing game with himself, betting on when the flame would finally extinguish and be no more.

Seeing that he wasn't going to elaborate any further, Hermione probed, "You wanted to take me out before?"

Charlie then looked up at her, his eyes betraying him to a look of anxiety, while he appeared to try to work out to how best approach this topic of conversation.

"Well, yeah," he said after a tense moment, a moment in which Hermione had held her breath, wondering if she was in a dreamland of sorts, bobbing along to a fanciful tune existing in the background, an ambiance of dim lights and red roses surrounding her, while Charlie's vulnerable softness emerged.

"Why," she asked in a whisper, not knowing if she wanted to hear his answer or not.

He sighed, a long, drawn-out sigh, as he continued, "You know, I…I like spending time with you. I mean, yes, we've only really known each other for the better part of a week, but it seems like it's been much longer than that, don't you think? The only way that I can explain it is that I like being around you, if that makes any sense. You're comforting in a way that I don't know anything about. It's weird feeling this way because I never did before."

The longer Charlie talked, the harder Hermione's heart hammered against her insides. Her thoughts about him mirrored his feelings over her. It was as if the two were waltzing around a topic neither one wanted to breach, not because they feared of what was to come, but because they were unsure it could ever become a reality.

"Can I ask why you didn't take me out before," Hermione asked, not wanting to sound pretentious, but she was interested in knowing why Charlie waited until they were nearly a continent away before asking her to dinner.

"Yes, you can," he said, flashing her a polite smile.

When he didn't go on, Hermione rolled her eyes and rephrased, "May I ask why you didn't take me out before?"

He gulped loudly. "My mum, mainly," he answered, looking straight into her eyes, not breaking contact.

"Your mum…I don't understand."

"If I'd take you out to dinner, she would've hounded me, actually, she probably would've cornered the two of us, asking if there was anything going on. Or worse, she may have assumed that there was something going on," he relayed.

His answer deflated her a bit. Although she didn't show it on the outside, at least she thought she didn't, his words stung her.

Erecting a defense, she said, "But you went out with that one witch, Desmiralda."

"That was only because I would never have heard the end of it from mum if I didn't take her out for at least one date," he replied. "It was a harmless dinner in my opinion, and truthfully, while I wouldn't say it was a waste of my time, it felt more like a deed that had to be done, rather than something I wanted to do. With you, I wanted to take you out, which is why we are here right now."

Helium began pumping back into Hermione's heart with his clarification, making her swell up with admiration with his words.

"I'm glad you asked me," she noted, "because I like spending my time with you, too."

Charlie smiled at her, though it was not his usual smile; it was dazzling one, a smile that could light up Big Ben all the way back in London during the harshest of winter nights. It made Hermione feel warm inside, instituting feelings she never really had for anyone else, not even Viktor or Ron; it made her feel both uneasy, yet the same time, excited.

Before any further exchanges could be made, Wormey appeared, levitating a large, round platter of dinner plates and glasses of Pumpkin Juice before him. Snapping his fingers, two dishes and glasses gently floated over from the tray onto the table.

"This looks delicious," Hermione commented, looking down at her plate.

"And smells delicious, too," Charlie added, his throat emitting a low hum of pleasure. "Thanks, Wormey."

Wormey seemed to enlarge with pride, basking in his duties he performed so well.

"Mister and missus is too kind to Wormey," the house-elf remarked, wiping away at an escaped tear. With that, he hurried away from them, though Hermione noticed that he was wearing a large smile like it was his own medallion of honor.

The pair started digging into their food, talking with one another about how the rest of their week was going to go. Besides filling out forms for the new dragon reserve tomorrow, most of their week was going to be contained on the dragon reserve itself.

While Charlie continued to talk, Hermione noted his excitement over the new dragon reserve of Wales. She thought that while Charlie liked being away from home to participate in a dangerous job in a foreign land, he missed the Burrow and he missed his family; he told her before that because he had been away so much, he practically missed watching Ron and Ginny grow up…he missed spending winters and summers with them. And whilst his mum seemed transfixed on the idea of setting him up with the perfect witch to settle down with, Charlie loved his parents – all of this was crystal clear to Hermione.

However, what was shady about him was his relationship, if one could coin it like that, with Hermione. While it was true that their companionship was growing more and more complex, inviting her to dinner added more layers upon those of which she didn't fully understand. In reality, Hermione really wasn't completely truthful with herself about what she had with him, and she had a thought that Charlie hadn't been either.

While it wasn't love that she shared for him, for they had only known each other for a week, there was an emotion that she did feel for him: intimacy…she wanted it with him. She also wanted to spend her time with him, because as he mentioned earlier, there was a certain sentiment that swept through her whenever she was with him; it was hard to describe, but when they were apart, Hermione didn't quite feel whole. Perhaps Hermione felt lonely, as even though she had friends, she wanted someone to touch, someone who would hold her, some who could comfort her, someone who was hers.

As these feelings swirled inside of Hermione, walloping dents into her heart, she wondered if Charlie was feeling the same thing. Would he, someone who had a lot more experience than she when it came to relationships, even give a second thought to her, a witch who was seven years younger than himself? Based on what he had told her, she guessed that he had. But was there a chance that he hadn't?

'Yes,' Hermione told herself, 'that was also very much a possibility.'

* * *

Charlie had took the tab and paid for dinner, much to Hermione's dismay, while they both wished Wormey well while he practically begged for them to come back as they left. Charlie then apparated Hermione directly into his flat, their stomachs were full of bean soup and hocks.

However, before either one could do or say anything, a knock was heard upon Charlie's door.

He walked over and opened it just as a young man that looked to be Charlie's own age yelled his name.

"Charlie! How've you been? What's this with you not letting me know you're back in Romania? I've been checking in here ever since I came back from work!"

"What are you, a dog, Terrance? You're acting like a lost pup whose been waiting for its owner to come back after a long day of work," Charlie said, laughing. "Come in, come in, I want you to meet someone."

As Terrance came into Charlie's flat, Hermione took in his appearance: he had a brown buzz cut, his head containing miniscule bits of hair that was soft to the touch; he was tan from working out in the sun…he could've fooled a passerby by telling them he frolicked all day on a beach; he was muscular, even more so than Charlie, as she noted that his t-shirt bulged under his frame; when he smiled, he had two dimples appear on either side of his mouth; as he also was taller than Charlie, though not by much.

Terrance stopped short at seeing Hermione as he turned his head halfway around his shoulder, his dark green eyes still trained on her, "You picked her up from town?"

"What? No, no, no, nothing like that: Terrance, this is Hermione Granger, Hermione, this is my best mate, Terrance Wriley," Charlie introduced.

"Oh, yes, I thought she looked a bit familiar," Terrance noted in a smooth and even tone of voice, walking forward and softly shaking Hermione's hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"You as well," Hermione said. "Have you seen me before," she tacked on, catching Terrance's 'familiarity' comment.

"I've seen your pictures in the paper back home," he replied. "I've from Wales and, well, your story with Harry Potter and Charlie's youngest brother, Ron, is quite legendary if I do say so myself, even if it isn't too much of a catch all the way out here in Romania. Did you two arrive together?"

At this, Charlie said, "Yes, we arrived this morning actually. Hermione, here, decided to take up a post with our department."

"Really," Terrance asked, his eyes growing slightly wider than what was accustomed of them, "have a hobby of caring after dragons, magical creatures, or both?"

"Both, actually," Hermione answered after a slight hesitation, "I can't say that I've had much experience with dragons; only two."

"Two," Terrance questioned. "You mean there was another incident involving you and a dragon, besides the one that cleaned house of Gringotts Bank?"

Hermione nodded her head, quickly stating, "It was back in first year when Hagrid showed me, Harry, and Ron a dragon egg he'd won."

"Norberta," Charlie said softly, making Terrance nod his head in understanding.

"Ah yes, I remember her. It's a shame we had to put her down a few years back," Terrance stated.

"You mean that she's…dead," Hermione questioned, whispering the word 'dead.'

"'Fraid so," Terrance replied, "she picked up a rather peculiar disease that she couldn't quite shake."

Hermione fixated her gaze onto Charlie, seeming as if she would only believe this story if he confirmed it, which he did with one small nod.

"How awful," Hermione remarked, "if Hagrid ever found out, he'd be devastated."

"Well, to spare him from this emotional magnitude, I'd say he's better off not knowing," Terrance commented, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

After a moment's worth of silence, perhaps the trio felt that Norberta's memory deserved as much, Terrance turned towards Charlie and said, "So, this is our last week here, right…before we head over to Wales?"

"Yeah," Charlie said back, "our final week. It's going to be strange, leaving this reserve when we've been here for so long."

"I know what you mean. It's just…yeah," Terrance echoed, words lost on him before he had a chance to speak them. Hermione saw that his eyes had glazed over, as if he was sifting through his memories he had of this particular dragon reserve, both good and bad. "Well, it was bound to happen sometime, wasn't it, with the war being over back in Great Britain?"

"Shouldn't it be exciting for you, though, for both of you," Hermione said aloud, making the two dragon handlers look over at her. "This is like a new phase of your life both of you are about to take."

"It's exciting," Terrance noted, beating Charlie to the punch, "but I can't say that life's been bad to me here. Yeah, there were a few small hiccups and days that I wished had ended sooner than they did," he continued, his face darkening as if a great bat had spread its wings over his features, "but this was my life after Hogwarts."

"It's hard to describe," Charlie chipped in, "but you're right, it is exciting."

"Yeah, I agree, but anyway, Charlie, before I head out, I actually did have to see you for a reason," Terrance remarked.

"What's up," Charlie asked back.

"Director Mulligan won't be here for the rest of the week and he asked me if you and Phillip will do the graveyard shift for the rest of the week, starting tomorrow."

"Yeah, that won't be a problem," Charlie responded, though there was mild edge to his voice.

Terrance seemed to pick up on it as well, shooting back, "I know no one wants to be paired with Birdbrain Phil, the Witless Wonder, but someone has to be, right?"

"Did Director Mulligan say where he was going?"

"He's taking a trip over to Canada, to see the Victorian Shaler in its natural habitat before two of its eggs get shipped over the ocean," Terrance answered. "He wants you to give some attention to Chinese Fireball in the Alarm encampment, as two of them are nesting."

"Okay, well, I'll take the graveyard shift with Phil, then," Charlie said.

"Why don't you bring Hermione with you? I'm you could find certain 'activities' for yourselves that would make your time useful together, right, Charlie? I mean, that's what I heard from Afina. I think she said something along the lines of you had 'charmed her with your wand'. Am I right?"

Hermione, not understanding exactly what Terrance meant but getting the general idea, looked over at Charlie, whose face exploded with red, looking like a strawberry punch bowl had been dumped over him. While Hermione felt disheartened, Terrance continued to laugh loudly.

"While you get rid of that flush off your face, I got to go. I have a special night planned with Mabyn, a Muggle girl I'm meeting in Brasov."

"Haven't you already met some girl named Mabyn before," Charlie inquired, the red on his face retreating at a slow pace.

Terrance paused and thought, before saying with a shrug, "I can't say for sure…I met a lot of girls whose names start with 'M'."

As Charlie shook his head, Terrance feigned hurt, replying with, "What? I can't help the fact that many girls have me at the top of their list to help keep their bed sheets warm at night! Although, most of the time when we wake up in the morning, the bed sheets are usually on the floor."

With a wave of his large hand and a gentlemanly bow to Hermione, Terrance departed from the department, leaving Charlie and Hermione alone.

Hermione, with Terrance's sudden absence, said, "That's your best mate, huh?"

Charlie laughed, one with apprehension, responding, "Yeah, his morals concerning the opposite sex are kind of, well, not there, but he's a good guy and all. Like I told you before, if it wasn't for him, Phillip wouldn't even be alive right now."

"What did he mean by the graveyard shift," Hermione questioned, looking up at him.

"Oh, that's where we, meaning Phillip and I, stay up all night to make sure nothing happens with our dragons. It sometimes can get a bit boring, but if you join us, maybe it won't be so bad," Charlie answered with a small smile.

"It sounds fun," Hermione started, however, Terrance's words slammed into her like a bag of bricks as she said rather coldly, "but don't think that you'll be able to wand me with your charm, or whatever rubbish Terrance said."

Charlie stared over at Hermione with his mouth hanging slightly open, still as a stone statue. For a quick second, Hermione thought that he had been hit with a spell by some unknown assailant that turned him into a gargoyle.

"Don't listen to him," Charlie finally muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with one of his hands, casting his eyes down upon his carpeted floor. "It meant nothing."

"Probably not to you, and not to Terrance, but I know how girls think, Charlie. We take these types of things more seriously," Hermione voiced, her tunes now turning soft.

"Well if you really want to know the truth, he's right: I slept with a lot of other woman before I went back home."

With his admission, Hermione's breath hitched in her throat. She didn't want to hear any more but she didn't trust her vocal chords to issue any sound at all at that time.

"I did it because it made me forget about my ex-girlfriend," he continued on, now looking straight into Hermione's eyes as if he was seeking out what she thought about him now. "It wasn't right but with my depression and drinking, it was an easy solution, which really didn't help me at all. I can't speak for Terrance and I won't, but that's what it was with me."

Charlie's sea-blue eyes continued to bore into Hermione's warm brown ones, as if he was hoping to found just a mere sliver of understanding from her. After several long seconds ticked by, stretching into what passed by like hours, she gave him a small nod of her head.

He nodded his own, as if accepting of the fact that Hermione was considerate of what he went through, not that it was any excuse for his past deeds. From an evening that had started nearly perfect at Garden Aplenty, it sure had evaporated faster than a cube of ice in a boiler.

"Well, do you think we should get some sleep then," he offered.

"Yeah," Hermione agreed, "I just need to wash up before then."

The two then worked around one another, taking turns in the bathroom, before getting ready to turn in. However, it was then that Charlie encountered a small problem.

"Hermione," he stated rather slowly, making her look over at him as she took a tip of water in his kitchen, "you don't mind sleeping in my bed, do you?"

"Sleeping in your bed? Isn't that space for you?"

"Normally, but I only have one bedroom…and there's two of us."

"Oh," was all she managed, a light pink coating the base of her neck. "I'm fine with sleeping on the couch, then."

"The couch? Hermione, you can sleep in my bed and I'll take the couch," Charlie said, holding back on scoffing at her idea.

"Charlie, it's your bed and you deserve to sleep in it. I'll be perfectly fine sleeping on the couch…it looks comfortable anyway," she fired back.

"Absolutely not. Do think that mum raised a bunch of barbarians with no class? You're sleeping in my bed and I'm sleeping on the couch, end of story," Charlie tried to finalize.

"Charlie-,"

"No, Hermione," he cut her off forcefully, "that isn't a negotiation. If it comes down to it, I'll carry you to my room and lock you inside of it until morning."

With this, Charlie waved his wand and a moment later, dark blue bed sheets along with two pillows, flew out of Charlie's bedroom and started folding itself into the corners of the couch's cushions.

"Charlie, I don't feel comfortable about this," Hermione stated, folding her arms over her chest. "It feels like I'm kicking you out of your own bedroom."

He smiled as he walked over to her, coming to a halt not even a step away. He was so close to her that the smell of vanilla mixed with cherry leaves drifted into his nostrils, placating him.

"I'll be fine, Hermione. Don't worry about it."

Hermione studied him for a brief moment before she started to nod her head, conceding defeat.

As she started to drift away, Charlie said, "Good night, Hermione."

Now making her way down his short hall to his bedroom, she half-turned her head, saying, "I still don't feel comfortable about this, you know."

She heard Charlie's laughter as she reached his bedroom door. Walking inside of it, she took one last look out at him, seeing him wave his wand, casting his living area into total darkness. He sighed as he lay down, just as she softly closed his door behind her.

Hermione walked over to his queen-size bed and climbed atop of its maroon-colored covers. She pulled them back and snuggled underneath them, her head resting against his pillows. While it was true that she felt bad about Charlie sleeping on his couch whilst he could've slept much more comfortably on his bed, Hermione thought that his mattress was rather relaxing.

Waiting for sleep to take her, Hermione thought about her day: spending a good amount of it in the presence of dragons and Charlie's ever-helpful guide to them; going to dinner with Charlie and spending time alone with him in Romania, though she felt that he was keeping something from her; meeting Wormey and feeling happy that he was at least being compensated for his work; and finally, meeting Terrance. While she did think that he was a nice guy, and rather handsome at that, Hermione didn't particularly like his nighttime habits, though he was a grown man, capable of making his own decisions.

As her eyes drifted close, one final thought came to her: Charlie was definitely keeping something from her, given all that he told her (and not told her) during the dinner together. Hermione then drifted away into her own subconscious, dreaming of tweed hats, crushed pastries, and nesting dragons.

* * *

The next afternoon, after Charlie turned in some paperwork and Hermione exchanged some of her money for Woan Bani, the exchanged currency in the wizarding community in Romania, at the Romanian Unitary Magical Republic, Charlie had to run back to collect a file he forgot to take, as Hermione elected to stay behind, wandering around in Tomes and Treatises, the bookstore in Woan.

Looking at the spines of the thousands of books packed into the small, oval-shaped shop, she came upon a fat binding titled, _10,001 Facts about Dragons: A Guide of Intelligence to Understanding their World and Perceptions_.

This book instantly triggered what Charlie had told her the day before about Phillip: that he could 'throw at you random facts about all different kinds of dragons not even found on this continent.'

As Hermione glossed over the book's pages, she thought about Phillip's story Charlie had told her. Although they hadn't talked about it since then, Hermione still felt that there was something strange with had happened to him; it was as if someone had shoved together mismatched puzzle pieces that didn't fit, causing its picture to be distorted.

However, remembering that Phillip's birthday was that night, and the fact that she wanted to attend, partially because she felt that not many people liked him, she took the book to the counter.

As she waited behind an aged witch in line, a voice from behind her suddenly said, "Brushing up on your dragon facts, are you?"

Hermione whipped around and saw Terrance standing behind her, a friendly smile on his face.

"Terrance, what're you doing here," she asked in a slightly startled manner.

"I was sending a letter to my brother back home at the Delivery Assembly next door. I saw you inside and though I'd join you on your little book hunt," he replied with a small shrug of his shoulders. "I have to say that I'm surprised Charlie isn't around with you."

"Why is that," she asked.

"He seems to be fond of you, is all," Terrance answered.

"And how do you know that?"

"I saw the way he looked at you last night. He hasn't looked at anyone like that before."

At this, Hermione faced him and said, quirking up an eyebrow, "No one?"

Terrance shook his head from side to side, saying, "Not that I can remember, and me and him started this job together."

Hermione inwardly frowned, thinking about Charlie's ex-girlfriend, the one whom Charlie thought he would be spending the rest of his life with before they called it quits.

"Well," Hermione began, "I'm sure it was just a friendly gesture."

With her words, Terrance howled with laughter, causing the aged lady in front of them to turn her head around and level him with a menacing glare, as if he was the product of a one-eyed troll and a bumbling baboon.

"Hermione, I've seen friendly gestures before and his look wasn't it. Where is he, by the way?"

"He forgot to pick up a file back in the Romanian Unitary Magical Republic," she answered, shifting the heavy book from one arm to the other.

Apparently seeing this, Terrance lifted the tome out of her arms and held it against his side.

With her questioning look, he said, "I'll hold it. Is this for you? You know we have our own personal library back on the encampment, though I don't think we have any books like this."

"It's not for me," Hermione said simply, "it's for Phillip."

"Phillip, meaning Phillip Soren," Terrance questioned, his eyes growing wide.

Yes," Hermione responded.

"What're you getting him a book for," he asked back, stating the word 'him' in a bitter tone.

Ignoring his icy tinge, she answered, "Charlie told me everything about him…well not everything, but what happened to him and how he changed before and after the incident. I thought it would be a nice gift to get him for this birthday."

"You mean that there are actually people going to that thing?"

"I think so," Hermione stated, "I mean, he did say he was going to invite everyone."

"I'll be damned if he does," Terrance muttered, though Hermione heard him.

"I know some people, like you and Charlie, have hard feelings over what happened, but maybe it would be better if you tried to put the past behind you," Hermione offered.

Terrance looked down at her and said with a sad smile, "Sometimes that's easier said than done."

As the aged lady departed from the counter, leaning on a cane tightly grasped within one hand while she wore a bag around her wrist, carrying her two purchases, both Hermione and Terrance stepped up to the clerk.

After Terrance set the book down, he then helped her configure the necessary money exchange for her to purchase the book containing facts about dragons.

Catching a face full of sun upon exiting the store, Hermione said, "Thanks for helping me in there."

"I can't say that I would've helped anyone but any friend of Charlie's I consider to be a friend of mine," he replied. "Say, how was your night with Charlie?"

Hermione fixated him with a confused glance, asking, "What do you mean?"

Terrance looked as if he was trying with all of his might not to roll his eyes as he dived further, "I mean, how was it?"

Getting a small inkling of what he was referring to, Hermione scoffed, replying with, "After you left, all we did as wash up and head to bed; nothing more than that."

However, before Terrance could reply, Hermione heard her name being called out from behind them. The duo turned to see Charlie making his way over, a thick file clasped in his right hand.

"Terrance, what're you doing in Woan," Charlie asked when he caught up with them.

"A mail delivery to Raymond," he said in response.

As Charlie nodded his head in understanding, he inquired, "How is your brother, by the way."

"Here and there," Terrance answered, shrugging his shoulders.

"What does that mean," Hermione asked, looking up at Terrance with a puzzled expression.

"He's all over the continent and also travels to Asia as well," Terrance supplied.

"What does he do?"

"He works for my father. My dad operates his own quill factory over in Wales. My brother goes around and bargains with other wizarding communities to sell his quills."

"That sounds nice," Hermione said.

Terrance laughed once, it dry of any humor, responding, "It's nice and all, yeah, but it's as boring as watching a worm snuggle into a patch of dirt."

"Even then, I know Ray likes what he does and he's quite good at it," Charlie quipped.

"I'll give him a good conscience of that, you're right," Terrance agreed. "At least he's better than my younger brother, Alex."

"You have another brother," Hermione asked.

"I have two: my older brother Raymond, and my younger brother Alexander."

"What does he do?"

"Studies how the spring's moonbeams affect the sleeping patterns of Moon Frogs," Terrance told her. "Why on earth he would even consider researching something of that nature is beyond my sense of belief."

"Well, everyone is into different areas that interest them," Hermione answered. "I had a friend at Hogwarts who believed in rather odd subject matters like that."

"Perhaps we should introduce the two of them together so they can go off and form a pact with Mother Nature," Terrance said, this time giving way to roll his eyes. "Anyways, I'm going to head back to the reserve. Are you guys coming along?"

"We'll be there in a few minutes," Charlie answered.

Phillip nodded his head before he snapped his fingers, disappearing with a small _POP_.

After he had gone, Hermione turned to Charlie and concluded, "Terrance doesn't seem to like his brothers all that much."

Charlie gave her a small smirk, responding, "Terrance loves his brothers in his own way, if that makes any sense. Ray has always outshone Terrance in terms of O.W.L.s, N.E.W.T.s, and work ethic, while Terrance believes that Alex is just wasting his time and his father's money by studying in things that he doesn't believe exists."

"Spending his father's money," Hermione queried.

"With Terrance's father's quill company, his family is well off. According to Terrance, Alex uses this to fund his research," Charlie explained. "From what I hear, his family never really has a nice, quiet dinner with each other."

Hermione laughed at that, thinking about all of the times that Luna Lovegood had voiced her own superstitions and the awkward silence that followed.

"I think I can relate to that somewhat," Hermione said with a smile.

Charlie grinned back before he noticed the bag in Hermione's hand.

"What's that," he asked, nodding his head towards it.

"A small gift I picked up for Phillip," she answered.

"Phillip…why?"

"Charlie, it's his birthday party tonight," Hermione addressed incredulously.

He paused for a long minute, looking at her like she was an intricate maze he was trying to work out, before he said, "You're actually going to it?"

"Yes, Charlie, I am. I think it might be nice and all to celebrate with him."

He sighed loudly, shooting his gaze downwards as he kicked away at some small pebbles.

"You don't have to go though," Hermione added on, "I know how you feel about him still after what happened."

"I'll think about it but I'm leaning towards not attending," Charlie said.

After Hermione nodded her head in understanding, Charlie held out his hand to her and proposed, "Come on, let's head back to the reserve."

Placing her hand in his, Charlie pulled her close to his size, giving her shoulders a light squeeze before they disappeared with a second small _POP_.

* * *

"Honestly, Charlie, it's not like we're going to sleep-over! I just think it's proper for us to wish him a 'happy birthday,'" Hermione huffed, as she and Charlie walked down the hallway side-by-side towards Phillip's room that night, with Hermione carrying her wrapped gift to him. "And besides, Phillip genuinely seems like a nice guy."

Charlie grumbled under his breath, as Hermione knew that he wasn't at all ecstatic about going to Phillip's birthday celebration. It's not that Hermione made him come along; in fact, she told him that if he wanted to stay behind, then he should've. However, Charlie was headstrong on accompanying Hermione. When she asked him why he needed to go with her, he just shrugged his shoulders, leaving her to yet again feel as if he wasn't telling her everything that was on his mind.

"It's this door right here," Charlie said after several more steps, as Hermione configured that his and Charlie's flats were about eleven doors apart.

They stopped walking as Hermione knocked upon the door. For a birthday jamboree, Hermione thought that the room beyond was awfully quiet.

'Perhaps Phillip erected a Silencing Charm,' Hermione inwardly thought to herself.

A few moments later, the door opened as Phillip's face appeared in the entryway. Once he saw who it was, he opened the door wider as he exclaimed, "Char! 'Mione! I knew ya'd come! Come in, come in!"

Charlie and Hermione, who both cringed at their given nicknames, walked inside Phillip's flat. The first thing Hermione noticed was that it was setup in the same manner as Charlie's, as she supposed the flats were all of the same style. She then saw that colorful streamers had been hung all over the walls, while at least a dozen multi-colored balloons bounced off of the living room and kitchen ceilings. Beyond that, however, the flat was bare, especially of any living soul.

"Phillip," Hermione started, as he shut the door behind them, "has no one come yet?"

"No, not yet, but don't worry, 'Mione: I invited the entire reserve camp tonight, so people should be showin' up in no time!"

Hermione slipped over a quick glance at Charlie who didn't seem at all surprised by how absent Phillip's birthday party was; Hermione, herself, didn't have a good feeling about it.

As the evening progressed, Hermione came to terms that no one else was coming. As the trio talked, mainly about Charlie and Hermione's blooming friendship, in which Phillip seemed to be really invested in, she couldn't help but notice that Phillip's eyes worked in a continuous rotation: clock, door, Charlie and Hermione; clock, door, Charlie and Hermione; clock, door, Charlie and Hermione.

When the hands of the timepiece struck ten o'clock, Hermione suggested, "Phillip, did you want to cut your cake?" She didn't really have anything to say about his guests that did not show up, though it didn't stop her heart from hurting over it.

"Yeah, come on ya two, let's go over and dig into some sweets," Phillip exclaimed, waving his wand to have Hermione and Charlie stand up from the couch they had been occupying for the past two hours and follow him over to the kitchen table.

"Sit down, sit down," he said, in a still cheerful manner.

As Hermione took her seat, she noticed that purple and red confetti had been scattered over the table's surface, however, the confetti seemed to be moving. Upon closer inspection, Hermione saw that the confetti was actually in the shape of dragons, as they clashed with one another.

She looked over at Charlie who said with a rough smile, "It's charmed…Tallyfine's Bakery gives a whole bag of these little guys for any celebration."

"I've never seen anything like these before," she said back.

"It's a nice touch for a little birthday," Charlie replied.

Just then, Phillip levitated a rather large, brown box out of his fridge and set it in the center of the kitchen table, squishing more than half of the moving confetti dragons under its weight.

"Oh, sorry little guys," Phillip said, but making no move to lift the box back up so that the squashed confetti could escape.

The top of the box lifted open so that the trio spotted a beautifully decorated rectangular cake lying inside of it. The cake, however, was again unlike Hermione had ever seen before: on its white and blue surface, six small figures, made up completely of cake icing though not having any defined facial features, were drifting over its surface, acting as if the top layer was an ice skating rink, leaving behind tracks in their wake. On the four sides of the cake, there were small dragons, also made of icing, scaling the cake's walls, trying to make it to the top, as if they wanted their own turn at skating themselves.

Phillip starting cutting the confection until Hermione exclaimed, "Wait!"

With a knife in one hand, Phillip completely froze in place, his eyes trained on Hermione.

"We have to sing 'Happy Birthday,'" she continued, as she could nearly feel waves of dread roll off of Charlie, as she thought she heard a groan as well.

Waving her wand, a single candle appeared before it plopped itself down in the center of the cake. The skating figures made of icing, not knowing a sudden obstruction had been placed in their way, ran into the candle, giving a small, _"Ompf."_ With another flick of her wand, a single flame appeared atop of the candle.

Hermione started singing, albeit a bit off-key, while she nudged Charlie in the side to do the same. Phillip's eyes started to water over as Hermione and Charlie finished their rendition of 'Happy Birthday' as she hoped that Phillip was pleased rather than scarred by their singing voices.

In answer, Phillip clapped his hands together and cried out, "That was beautiful! Absolutely beautiful!"

"Phillip, blow out your candle," Hermione instructed.

He did as he was told as Hermione clapped her hands together, while Charlie softly tapped his hands twice before stopping.

Phillip then proceeded to cut the cake, minding not to slice into any of the figures or dragons made up of icing, and handed a large piece to Hermione and an equally sized piece to Charlie, before taking one for himself.

As Hermione looked down at her plate, she noticed that a dragon of icing was on her plate.

"This may sound like a silly question, but are we able to eat the dragon," Hermione asked, feeling the color race across her cheeks as she replayed her ridiculously-phrased query again in her head.

"I don't exactly know," Phillip replied, spotting two dragons on his plate, before shooting a look over at Charlie, who had one dragon, shrugged his shoulders in return.

However, before any of them could try it, each of the dragons made of icing exploded, glazing Hermione, Charlie, and Phillip's face in frosting.

After a shocked moment, Phillip started laughing, followed through by Hermione, while even Charlie cracked a small smile.

"Well, certainly didn't expect that, did we," Phillip said, waving his wand and having napkins fly atop of the table.

After Hermione wiped the icing off of her face and took a bite of her cake, she nearly hummed in appreciation, saying "This cake is really good."

Phillip looked over at her and responded with a large smile, "Before you guys leave, take all the cake that you want…I'm going to have plenty leftover."

With his last statement, Hermione prompted carefully, "Phillip, you said that you invited all of the reserve workers?"

At her question, she saw that Phillip's smile wavered a bit before he answered, "Yeah, I did but I just suspect that they're a bit busy with whatever they're doing tonight."

Hermione noticed that there was a lace of both sorrow and rejection in his words, making her heart pang with hurt. She looked over at Charlie who, himself, looked quite mellow.

"But at least you two came," Phillip continued in a more jolly voice, looking up from his half-eaten slice of cake. "Even though I haven't known you all that long 'Mione, I consider both you and Char to be great friends of mine!"

"Oh, well thank you, Phillip, that means a lot," Hermione returned. "I actually got you a gift."

"A gift," Phillip repeated, his eyes igniting with interest.

Hermione stood up and walked over to the couch she and Charlie had occupied before, grabbing her wrapped gift she had set down beside it when she had entered into the flat, and handed it to Phillip after she had made her way back to the table.

"It's from both me and Charlie," Hermione announced, spotting Charlie's head look over at her out of the corner of her eye.

Phillip smiled before he tore off the wrapping paper, where it fell to the ground. As he stared at the cover of the book, his smile slowly slipped off of his face, as Hermione registered that something was triggered deep inside of him, but of what, she didn't know.

As he continued to gaze at the cover, as if hypnotized by it, Charlie, noticing this rather abrupt peculiar behavior, cleared his throat and said, "Phillip, are you okay?"

Phillip slowly looked up from the book cover, his eyes in a bit of a daze.

"Phillip," Charlie repeated, as Hermione looked on in concern.

"It isn't real."

"What," Hermione and Charlie said in unison. They looked over at each other, wondering what Phillip was talking about.

"Phillip, come out of it," Charlie said, leaning forward and clapping his hands together with force, right in front of Phillip's face.

With this action, Phillip jerked backwards, falling off of his chair, his heavy tome tumbling onto the floor with a loud _THUMP_.

"What'd ya do that for, Char?"

"You were a bit out of it," he said back after a slight pause.

"Out of it," Phillip repeated, looking rather confused, as he stood to his feet.

"Are you okay," Hermione asked him.

"I've never felt better, well besides falling on the floor that is!"

"Well, I think Hermione and I should get going…it's getting late," Charlie stated, rising to his feet.

Phillip looked over at the pair and said, "Before ya go, please take some cake with ya! I've got plenty of leftovers!"

"It's your cake Phillip, you enjoy it," Charlie replied back.

Hermione then stood to her feet and said, "Happy Birthday, Phillip."

"Thanks for coming, 'Mione! And you too, Char!"

Charlie nodded his head at him before he grabbed Hermione's hand and led her to the door. Before they departed, however, Phillip's voice stopped them: "I'll see you tomorrow night at the graveyard shift!"

Charlie looked back and said with a genuine smile, "See you then, Phillip."

As Charlie pulled open the door, Hermione took a quick look back and saw that Phillip had picked up the book she had gotten for him from the floor, as he was once again mesmerized by its cover.


	10. The Graveyard Shift

Hello all! I now present to you Chapter 10 of "Nocturnal!" Chapter 11 will be posted Wednesday night. I wish you all Happy Holidays!

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Chapter 10: The Graveyard Shift

A cool breeze overtook her, ruffling about her wild hair; not that she cared for her mind was on different matters that night. The moon and the stars were obscured by the passing of a mass of clouds, chasing one another across the darkened sky.

Meanwhile, Hermione was quietly observing a Chinese Fireball, its name Meili, as it carefully nudged its crimson egg, colored with small, gold flecks, with its snub-snouted face, mothering it until it was ready to crack open to reveal a new baby dragon.

Charlie and Phillip were walking around the Alarm pen, Terrance having retired to the Primitive enclosure, making sure the other dragons were well cared for as the night progressed, one of their few duties part of the graveyard shift. Hermione agreed in accompanying Charlie and Phillip during the late night hours in the one of the dragon pens, for how many times would this type of opportunity be available to her? Hermione had initially thought that the graveyard shift meant that they were to maintain the entire dragon encampment. Charlie, however, shot down this idea, telling her that the reserve was too big for two people to maintain; each enclosure had two workers that roamed through it during the night.

A break in the clouds above made Meili's smooth scarlet scales shimmer in the moonlight, while its sharp, golden spikes that bordered its face glinted with it as well.

'She looks so careful and particular,' Hermione inwardly thought to herself, thinking that Meili might perhaps be one of the most beautiful dragons she had ever laid eyes on before; it seemed that Charlie also took a fastidious interest in her too.

Hermione folded her arms over her chest to block herself as another cool breeze brushed over her, whistling through the tall trees that surrounded the encampment. She tore her eyes away from the dragon, looking at the branches of the trees that seemed to dance and sway to their own routine.

"Enjoying the view, are you," came a voice from behind her.

She looked over her shoulder and saw Charlie making his way over to her, a small smile set over his face, his hands in his pockets, while his white t-shirt threatened to burst at its seams because of his bulging framework.

"Did you get burned," Hermione asked, noticing a black mark on his shirt's side.

"A bit," he offered, tilting his head to one side as if it was nothing out of the ordinary…though working on a dragon reserve, a stray burn mark really was nothing out of the ordinary, it was rather normal. "I'll live, though thank you for your concern."

Hermione smirked over at his playfulness before she returned her attention back to Meili.

"How soon do you think it is before her baby hatches," Hermione questioned after a moment.

"A couple of days, at most," Charlie answered, taking his place by her side and watching the dragon as well. "It's truly a sight to behold, watching a dragon hatch, wouldn't you say?"

"It certainly is different," Hermione replied, remembering the time she, Harry, Ron, and Hagrid had all witnessed Norberta's hatching in Hagrid's Hut during first year.

"It's a wonder to watch them grow into full-grown dragons afterwards," Charlie supplied. Hermione peeked over at him to see that a content smile had groomed his face, holding in it wonder and admiration; she quickly pondered how many hatchings Charlie had seen during his years on the reserve and if they were all similar to each other after some time.

"They're all different, you know," he then said.

"What's different," Hermione questioned, a bit thrown off by his sudden statement.

"The dragon hatchings," he responded, as Hermione wondered if Charlie had the ability of legilimency.

"What's your favorite to watch," she inquired.

Charlie's eyes wandered upward in deep thought, while the Chinese Fireball looked as if it was settling down for the night.

"I'd have to say the Hungarian Horntail," he said.

"Why's that?"

"From what I observed, of all the dragons we have on the reserve, the Horntails are the ones who protect their eggs the fiercest. The workers usually try and stay far clear of them when the baby is about to hatch. It kind of reminds me of my mum, protecting us and all that," Charlie explained lightly.

Hermione knew he was right as she thought about how Mrs. Weasley stepped in to fight Bellatrix Lestrange after she had shot the Killing Curse that missed Ginny by mere inches during the Battle of Hogwarts several months ago. Mrs. Weasley was definitely one to protect her children by any means necessary - one could ask Bellatrix Lestrange that…if she wasn't dead by Mrs. Weasley's hand.

"Yeah, it'll be a few days before we see the new Fireball," Charlie remarked, once again looking down at the prized egg.

"Do you think it'll hatch before we're gone," Hermione asked.

"Most likely," Charlie said back, "but with these dragon eggs, nothing is in the realm of certainty. For all we know, the egg could start opening as early as tonight."

Hermione nodded her head in understanding before she spotted Phillip some pens away, roaming about. To her, his shoulders seemed like they were slumped forward, while his short brown hair gently swayed with another wind gust. Besides thanking Hermione for her gift she had given him, Phillip didn't say anything else to her or Charlie since his celebration the previous night.

"You still feel bad about his birthday, don't you," Charlie's voice questioned.

Hermione glanced over at him to see that his eyes were fixed upon Phillip's dark figure, walking some yards away from them.

"How could you not," Hermione reasoned. "He said that he was going to invite all of the workers on the reserve but only you and I bothered to show up. He had a cake and decorations…everything. He was affected by it; I saw it on his face."

"Even though I wasn't thrilled about going, you're right, Hermione: I felt bad about it too," Charlie commented.

"Is he really that unpopular?"

"It isn't about popularity on the reserve…it's about how well you are able to interact with the dragons, as they are what are job revolves around," Charlie started to explain. "Ever since the incident with Phillip, many workers don't trust him enough to watch their backs."

"But what does that have to do with showing up at his birthday celebration," Hermione countered.

"Because many people don't want him here anymore, but no one has told him that directly. Not showing up last night was their indirect way of telling him that."

At his words, Hermione softly shook her head from side to side in disbelief that grown men would act so childish.

"It's wrong," Hermione noted after a quiet minute, "to do something like that isn't right."

"We live by the scars we receive," Charlie said, shrugging his shoulders, "with Ray's death, the wounds are still fresh in our minds."

"I thought you said before that only Terrance had any real problem with Phillip," Hermione inquired.

"He does, but it's like I said before: the workers don't trust him in working with dragons."

Hermione looked over at Phillip again and saw that he was now sitting down upon the ground, his back resting against the bark of one of the surrounding trees, Hermione's present to him, _10,001 Facts about Dragons: A Guide of Intelligence to Understanding their World and Perceptions_ , open in his lap, with the tip of his wand ignited in light.

"He just seems so harmless," Hermione voiced, "like something who would think twice about swatting away a fly."

"He appears to like your gift," Charlie sounded off after a moment, "brushing up on his knowledge about dragons and all."

"Well, that was the idea when I got him the book. I remember that you told me he forgot about his facts about dragons after the incident," Hermione clarified, looking back over at Charlie.

"It was a good choice," Charlie agreed, nodding his head, shooting her a small smile. "Maybe some things will start to come back to him, and then we can start questioning him about what really did happen."

"How long do you think you're going to hold that over his head?"

Charlie's face scrunched up a bit as he retorted, "Hermione, I'm not holding anything over him…it's just that a friend of mine died. Knowing what happened will give everyone a peace of mind, especially Ray's family."

"You still don't like him though, do you? You just feel bad because no one showed up for his party," Hermione deduced.

"It's just hard for me," Charlie glowered, looking down at the blades of grass being squashed underneath their shoes. "Ray was a good guy; someone who left far too early for his own good. It isn't fair."

With this, Charlie turned towards his side and started to slowly walk away, an undercurrent in both his words and actions.

Hermione followed him and when she was by his side, she began, "You're right Charlie: sometimes life isn't fair, but we don't have the ability to control what happens and what doesn't. All we can do is move on with good intentions, to treat others how we ourselves would want to be treated, and to keep an open mind about what could come in the future. You should try and give Phillip a second chance."

Charlie had stopped walking at her words and turned to face her.

"You seem to have your life figured out, don't you," he gently teased with a small smile.

"I'd like to think so but that's not entirely true," she responded, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

"You have a job with the Ministry, you've been given your first assignment with our department…what's left to figure out," Charlie quipped.

Hermione paused, as her mind juggled the options of her telling the truth, or to be more discreet. Even though Phillip's failed party attendance was on her mind, her feelings about Charlie also came with a heavy price tag.

Ever since she and him had talked outside the Burrow after dinner nearly two weeks ago, something inside of her stirred with his appearance. It was like a hive of butterflies nested inside of her and every time he talked to her, they all took flight, making her feel slightly nervous and vertiginous around him. There was no doubt in her mind that she was attracted to him but how far did that magnetism go?

Further, Hermione didn't have much of a clue if Charlie even returned her stored feelings she had for him. It was possible that Charlie just considered Hermione a good friend, one that was easy to talk to and fun to go places with, but to pursue something more than that…it hadn't even set within him. Perhaps she was nothing more than his youngest brother's best friend. However, everything changed when Charlie took Hermione out to Garden Aplenty in Woan two nights ago.

She had guessed that Charlie took her there for a particular reason, but it was a motive he didn't elaborate on and he was quite firm in not doing so. While he did give her some answers as to why he took her out to dinner, his responses were covert and indirect.

Sighing, Hermione knew that she shouldered the possibility of putting their comfortableness at stake if she were to voice her thoughts on the matter.

"What are you thinking about," Charlie asked, breaking Hermione's wall of thoughts into small blocks of rubble. "You seem like you have something you want to talk about."

Then, for no explainable reason at all, Hermione started laughing. It wasn't a deep, chest-shaking laugher, but a little more subdued.

Charlie gave her a quizzical look, folding his arms over his wide, muscled chest. While she tried to get her laughter under control, he quirked up an eyebrow and queried, "Do you find something amusing?"

Hermione shook her head from side to side, relaying, "This whole thing is just rubbish."

"What is?"

"Something that I was thinking about," Hermione relented.

"So you laugh at rubbish thoughts," Charlie gathered in a question-like format, not understanding Hermione's source of hilarity.

Hermione scoffed, though good-naturedly, before she explained, "It's just that I'm thinking about something that seems highly illogical even though there's a small chance that it's not."

After a short minute, in which Charlie stared over at her in an odd manner, he stated, "I don't think I follow."

In response, Hermione took a long, deep breath, her laughter having now coursed through her, trying to calm herself before she took the plunge.

"Charlie, when you took me to Garden Aplenty, you said that you wanted to take me out which was different from taking me out when we were back at the Burrow, and having your mum assuming something was going on between the two of us."

"That's right, I said that," Charlie murmured, his eyes dancing in the waters of uncertainty. He fidgeted like he couldn't quite stay still yet his feet seemed glued to the ground of where he stood in front of Hermione.

"But why did you bring that up now," he finally asked when Hermione didn't go on.

"I already told you that I like spending my time with you. But," she then stopped, unsure if she was making the right decision to continue. Deciding that it was now or never, she resumed, "I think…no, I know, that I like you."

With another wind, Charlie smiled and said, "I like you too."

Hermione shook her head, responding, "No, I mean, I like you more than that of a friend. I-I have f-feelings for you," she finished in a whisper.

She looked up at Charlie's face, trying to gauge his reaction. He looked lost, like he was running through a maze without a map to guide him. He uncrossed his arms where they instead dangled by his sides.

"Hermione," he started quietly, his face now masking one of pain, making Hermione's heart plummet into freezing temperatures; however, rather than continuing, he just stopped talking.

Even though Hermione's head told her to turn around and walk away, sealing the smidgen of pride she still had, her heart spoke to a different drum.

"What, Charlie," she pressured, wondering what he had to say, if there was anything left to speak with at all.

He gave a loud sigh, dropping his head to his chest like it was a heavy stone, muttering, "Why is this so complicated?"

Hermione stood there, watching Charlie lift his head back up while a wide spectrum of emotions crossed over his features, none staying too long to prolong its efforts upon him.

"There's a reason, Hermione, that I was excited for you to come with me to Romania," Charlie suddenly began, making her heart hammer against her.

"What was the reason?"

"So that I could finally muster up the courage to ask you out on a proper date," he answered quietly.

Hermione gave him a puzzled look, wondering if her own ears had tricked her.

'Did he say what I think he said,' she asked herself.

"I don't understand," Hermione stated.

"Ever since that first night when you and I chatted after dinner, I knew that you were different. Of course, I might've realized it sooner but when we first met the summer of the World Cup, we didn't speak to one another besides quick 'Hello's' and 'Good Morning's.' But talking with you nearly about everything that night changed how I initially felt about you.

"I wanted to take you out on a proper date ever since then but I couldn't find the courage to do so and I didn't want my family to find out."

"What's wrong with your family knowing," Hermione blurted out, interested in his response.

"Mum wouldn't have approved, as she would think that I'm far too old for you and that I'm taking advantage of you. Fred and George treat you practically like a sister and I'm sure they wouldn't have been too thrilled about the idea that we were dating. Ron is another matter entirely as even though you said that he understood about where you and him are in terms of a relationship, I know that he still has feelings for you, Hermione. On top of that, I didn't even include Harry and Ginny who, I'd assume, would be at my throat, threatening me if they ever caught wind that I'd hurt you.

"So I told myself that I would wait until another time where I could ask you on a date without my family and Harry bearing down upon us. Nearly an entire continent away seemed like a safe enough distance to finally ask you out, only I didn't exactly phrase it as such, did I, when we went to Garden Aplenty?"

"No, not specifically at least," Hermione answered, wondering where Charlie was going with his explanations.

"That was because I didn't think you were interested in me like I was interested in you."

"But I am interested in you," Hermione announced in a quiet voice, looking up at Charlie, the full truth of her own admission slamming into her, for she then realized that this was the first time she had come to terms with something like this – speaking the truth about her feelings.

"I fancy you too," Charlie replied back, but it wasn't a happy declaration, but instead, one of forlorn.

"Then why doesn't it sound like it?"

"Hermione, you deserve the absolute best. I've heard countless stories from Ron, in both letters and in person, of how amazing you are. Even more so, this past year, with all of the things you were able to do with Harry and Ron, infiltrating the Ministry of Magic, breaking into Gringotts, freeing a dragon, fighting at Hogwarts…you are a true hero even if you don't want to think about it like that.

"But I'm not a knight in shining armor. I'm nowhere near perfect. I have flaws, Hermione, many of them; you deserve someone who can give you everything you need and more."

"If you don't want to be with me then why-," Hermione began but Charlie cut across her.

"Wait a minute, Hermione, who said that I didn't want to be with you," he asked tenderly.

"You didn't say so in exact terms but wasn't that the general idea," she questioned, feelings as if her heart was nothing more than a jumbled mass of papier-mâché, being ripped and torn into pieces that were left discarded and forgotten about upon the ground.

"I fancy you a lot, I have since the night we first had a real conversation with each other. I just feel that you deserve better than me, someone who doesn't hold grudges, someone who doesn't have a temper, someone who has a lot more than I could ever give," Charlie tried to reason to her.

"You sound like you're trying to talk yourself out of fancying me," Hermione stated, her voice full of hurt. This was the first, and maybe the last time, Hermione ever revealed her feelings for someone else for the pain was too great to manage and uphold. It took a toll upon her, wasting her emotions on this dark night.

"I'm not, honest, I'm just letting you know that there are far better catches than me," he said. "I don't know if I could ever be that perfect boyfriend for you. Even though I've been in relationships before, it's been only a few; I'm not really known for dating."

"I wish you would stop talking about me being perfect or me needing perfect things…I'm far from it," Hermione admonished gently. "I'm not like that, and I realized that during the war, trying to be perfect comes with a price."

"Maybe it does…I wouldn't really know," Charlie commented. "I want to be with you, Hermione, I really do…I just never thought I would want to settle down with you; you took me by surprise."

Hermione gave him a weak smile before she said, "So that's it then? This is where we leave it?"

"I don't want to," Charlie nearly groaned, "I'm just scared."

At this, Hermione looked up at him as he stared down at her; sea-blue met warm brown.

"Of what," she questioned, speculative of what he could possibly be scared of after he had worked with many different dragons over the years.

Charlie licked his lips quickly before he revealed, "Of getting hurt. It's hard to believe but blokes have fears about relationships too, it's not just the gals. We're just more tight-lipped over it."

"Are you talking about the girl you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with," Hermione surmised.

Charlie nodded his head wordlessly.

"If I'm to be honest with you, I'm scared also," Hermione relented.

"Of what?"

"Well, I've never really been with anyone before. It's embarrassing, I know, but I just never felt like how I feel about you."

Hermione dropped her head in shame, embarrassed that she had outwardly admitted that, for speaking aloud with words made everything seem more real.

"Hey," Charlie breathed out, gently lifting Hermione's head with his finger, "you don't have to feel humiliated by that. It all comes at different times."

"Except the first time that I share my feelings if also the time that I get rejected," she laughed humorlessly.

"I didn't say 'no'; all I said was that you deserved better," Charlie responded, retracting his finger back.

"I don't think we'd know if we never tried," Hermione elected. "I'm willing if you are."

Charlie looked down at her hard, not because he was angry but because he was trying to decide if Hermione was being serious with him. Seeing how she acted around him, why was there any uncertainty in him?

Hermione waited patiently for Charlie, wondering if she was right in being forward with him. From all of the fairy tales and books she has read when she was away from Hogwarts, most of the time the man divulged his feelings for the woman, not the way Hermione had made it known.

However, she didn't particularly understand why Charlie felt that he wasn't good enough for her. If anything, it should've been the other way around. She was smart, yes, and held vast amounts of knowledge about a wide range of topics, both magical and Muggle, yet this image that has cropped up of her being a 'war hero' just wasn't true, not in her mind at least.

"I don't want to make a mistake," Charlie insisted quietly, grabbing both of Hermione's hands in his. "Everything has been so perfect with you that it feels like something bad is bound to come along."

"Charlie, you can't think like that. Bad things happen only when you expect them to," Hermione replied.

Charlie laughed once before he squeezed Hermione's hands.

"How did I ever get so lucky that a witch as beautiful and smart as you would notice someone like me," Charlie asked.

"You're a good person, Charlie, you should give yourself more credit than that," Hermione stated.

Charlie laughed lightly as he continued to look into Hermione's eyes.

"I never thought we'd end up like this," he remarked softly, suddenly turning more serious.

"Did you ever think about it?"

"Many times ever since he first started talking," he told her, nodding his head, "but the more and more I thought about it, the less plausible it seemed to ever become real."

Then, Charlie slowly started leaning forward, Hermione noticing that his eyes were searching, roaming over her face, looking and seeking for reassurance. In turn, Hermione started to lean forward towards him.

Closer and closer they drew together, Hermione feeling as if her heart was bound to take flight at any moment, while her stomach filled with a fluttering feeling she had never felt before now.

Hands still clasped within each others, Charlie paused mere inches from Hermione's face.

"Hermione," he asked as a question, asking if she was sure this was what she wanted.

She looked at him and nodded her head, mentally telling him 'yes.'

Charlie grinned before he started to close the gap that existed between them.

However, before he could fully do so, they heard a grunting sound from nearby that seemed to echo around the Alarm encampment.

They sprang apart, both of them looking around to see where the noise had came from.

"What was that," Hermione asked, her heart beating out of sync from her apparent kiss with Charlie and the sudden clamor.

"I don't – hang on…where's Phillip?"

Both Charlie and Hermione looked around but did not see Phillip anywhere in sight. Charlie started walking forward, drawing his wand, and muttering, " _LUMOS_ ," while Hermione did the same, their wand tips shining brightly.

They made their way over to the outer edges of the Alarm pen where they had spotted him before and saw that his book lay upon the grass, a splatter of blood painted across the pages they had supposed he had been reading last.

"Charlie," Hermione started, looking over at him to see that he placed his finger over his mouth for the both of them to remain quiet.

The pair looked at the trees surrounding them, it being pitch black between each one. To Hermione, it seemed as if a deranged beast was lurking, waiting for either one of them to make their way into the brush before it attacked them, feasting upon their flesh.

Charlie and Hermione's breaths mingled together as one, both of their chests rising and falling in a rapid manner, as Hermione tried to think quickly about what to do.

Just as Charlie was about to make this way into the trees, a patronus in the form of a jackal appeared. Charlie stopped at the sight of it, as it opened its mouth and said in Terrance's voice, "Poachers on the reserve. Meet me in the Center of Directions."

Charlie rapidly turned to Hermione as the patronus disappeared, his features now on high alert, saying, "Hermione, go to Terrance and let him know that Phillip's gone. I'm going to go and try to find him."

"Charlie, no," Hermione exclaimed in a harsh whisper, grabbing his muscled arm and pulling him towards her, "what if there are multiple attackers in the forest? You'll be outnumbered!"

"We can't leave Phillip inside, Hermione," Charlie responded.

"I didn't say we would; we should go together," she answered.

"Absolutely not; there's no way I'm letting you come with me…it's too dangerous," he said, putting his foot down.

"Charlie, please, I can help. The more time we waste out here, the less time we have to find Phillip and these dragon poachers," Hermione reasoned.

A confliction of emotions passed through Charlie's eyes before he swiftly nodded his head and whispered to her, "Stay behind me."

With that, he walked through the trees, his frame disappearing into it, with the only source of light being his lit wand, which he had pointed towards the ground to keep from giving their position away.

Hermione followed close behind, extinguishing her own wand in fear that they would be too easily spotted.

As they continued forward, Charlie kept one arm behind him, ready to push Hermione down upon the forest floor if they were ambushed.

The darkness they were now walking in seemed to stretch on for an eternity, never beginning and never ending. It was like they were lost within a black mass, drifting into a stream of unconsciousness, depleting all hope and instead giving way to lost causes. The trees towered into nothingness, disappearing out of sight, while animalistic eyes appeared to follow their every step, waiting for the most opportune time to stage their savage attack.

A fiend seemed to be following them, ghosting their footsteps, making Hermione turn around with each pace she took. Their shoes crunched over fallen leaves, while Hermione stumbled over a thick, stray root, making her gasp, and causing Charlie to swiftly wheel around and catch her before she fell on the ground.

They walked on, noises of the night penetrating their senses, before Charlie stepped in, what initially appeared to be a puddle.

The pair looked down to see Charlie's shoes and the bottom of his jeans covered in blood.

They looked at each other before Charlie took a risk and lifted his wand higher into the air, giving them a greater area of light to see.

Hermione heard heavy breathing behind her. Whipping around while brandishing her wand, her eyes fell upon Phillip, bound against the bark of a lone tree with razor-sharp barbed wire.

"Charlie," she breathed out, rushing over to Phillip; his shirt was ripped in several places while two bruises colored his jaw; dark, red blood dripped out of the side of his mouth, while his crooked nose was clear that it was broken. He body leaned against the barbed wire, as Phillip had passed out, its edges digging into his flesh.

" _RELASHIO_ ," Hermione said, severing the barbed wire as Phillip fell forward, in which Charlie caught him in his arms and gently laid him down upon the forest floor.

Charlie next pointed his wand at Phillip's chest and muttered, " _RENNERVATE_."

Phillip then came to, gasping as if he had been saved from rising tides that piled high above his head.

Squinting against Charlie's bright wand tip, he said, "Char…'Mione…what happened?"

"We don't know," Charlie said quickly. "We heard a noise and we saw that you were gone."

"Where are we," he mumbled in a weak manner.

"Still in the Alarm pen," Charlie answered, "but Terrance said that there are poachers on the reserve…we need to go. Can you walk?"

"Think so," he said, as both Charlie and Hermione helped him stand to his feet.

"Are you okay, Phillip," Hermione asked, before he staggered a bit, before falling into a nearby tree, his shoulder slamming into its bark, before he slumped down onto the ground.

"I'm a'right," he said, "you two go."

"No, we can't leave you here," Charlie started. "What if whoever did this to you comes back?"

"Then I'll fight him off," Phillip jumbled together, feebly putting up his fists before they fell back down in his lap.

"No, we're taking you with us. Here try to stand. Hermione, can you get his other side," Charlie commanded, as she and Charlie hauled Phillip to his feet, while they each hooked one arm around their shoulders and started to walk out of the forest.

Charlie and Hermione, with a limp Phillip between them, made their way past the now sleeping dragons and started to make their way down the tunnel leading back towards the Center of Directions.

"Charlie, do you think that the poachers are still here," Hermione asked.

"Most likely," he answered, "Terrance seems to want to block each of the entrances of TAP by use of the Center of Directions as that would be their only way out since you can't apparate on the dragon encampment itself."

"But how did they get in?"

"I don't know," Charlie replied, refocusing his efforts towards the end of the tunnel which was now in sight.

"Come on, Phillip, stay with us," Charlie said, "We're almost there."

"I'm with ya," Phillip said, "I just got a few scars and that's it."

At the sound of his voice, which was much clearer than minutes before, Charlie came to a standstill, making Hermione stop as well.

"Can you walk on your own? We would get to the Center of Directions much faster," Charlie noted.

"Yeah, I'll manage," Phillip responded, giving a small shake of his head, "let's go."

With that, the three took off towards the end of the tunnel. When they reached its opening, a voice yelled out, "STOP!"

Charlie, Hermione, and Phillip all skidded to a halt, their arms raised in the air as if they had been caught in an act of burglary.

"It's alright," came a voice from that Hermione recognized as Terrance's, "it's just Charlie, Phillip, and Hermione."

The trio then made their way forward in a hurried manner, walking up the stone steps leading to the Center of Directions tent. There, Hermione saw Terrance, along with three other workers who she assumed were working the graveyard shift in the other dragon pens.

"Terrance," Charlie initiated, "what's going on? How are there poachers on the reserve?"

"I dunno," he said, locking his gaze upon the three darkened archways leading back towards the encampment, "I saw one ducking through the trees in the Primitive pen. What happened to Phillip," Terrance asked, noticing the state Phillip was in.

"We don't know. Hermione and I heard a noise and realized he disappeared. We found him in the woods tied to a tree wrapped in barbed wire," Charlie relayed.

"Barbed wire," Terrance repeated, his eyes wide.

As the two continued their conversation, Hermione grabbed Phillip's forearm and said, "Phillip, can you sit down? I can try and heal some of your injuries for you."

"You can do that," he questioned, taking a seat atop of the top stone step that led to the pavilion.

"Just minor scrapes, cuts, and bruises," Hermione answered with a shrug of her shoulders; she had learned how to from Madam Pomfrey after the Battle of Hogwarts had reached its finale.

As Hermione got to work, she overheard Charlie and Phillip conversing with each other.

"Did you alert the rest of the workers back in the flats," Charlie asked.

"No, I don't think that would be a good idea right now. None of the other workers have had much training in this type of situation before as the last dragon poacher that came through here was some time ago. It wouldn't be coordinated but complete chaos," Terrance answered. "We need to properly plan first."

"We should still alert them," Charlie proposed.

"You're right, you're right," Terrance said, "after we plan."

However, before the two could exchange any more words with each other, Hermione, having finished healing Phillip to the best of her abilities, stood up and questioned, "What about the poachers?"

Everyone in the vicinity looked over at her.

"What about them," Terrance asked back.

"Upon exiting the dragon pens, can't they apparate out of Romania," she inquired.

"No," Charlie said, taking a step towards her, "Romania is restrictive on apparition points within the country, meaning that you can only apparate from Woan to here and back again. However, since Woan is the only wizarding community in Romania, the entire village has anti-apparition wards placed upon it from midnight to six in the morning."

"Hang on," Hermione started, her head spinning from all of the information Charlie had dumped on her, "why is it that witches and wizards can only apparate between Woan and the dragon reserve?"

"That's just how the Romanian Unitary Magical Republic set it up," Charlie supplied. "Because of that, most witches and wizards that live in Romania live near Woan."

"Okay, and why does the village have anti-apparition wards placed upon it from midnight to six in the morning," Hermione questioned next.

"Because of poachers," Terrance said, looking over at her. "It's been a big problem here in the past. They can't place anti-apparition wards upon Woan all day because people still have to go about their business there. However, usually everything closes before midnight which is when the wards go into effect."

"I'm guessing it would counterproductive for the dragon poachers to come to Woan and the dragon reserve during the day," Hermione sensed.

Phillip jumped in, saying, "It would be like walking into Gringotts in broad daylight and telling them goblins you're going to rob one of their vaults! Even then, Woan usually stays busy from sun up to sun down. If the dragon poachers came during those times, they'd never be able to cleanly escape."

"But then how are the dragon poachers going to escape now," Hermione queried.

"The same ways the previous ones have done it," Terrance began, "by going to Woan and apparating out of there right at six."

"What time is it now," Hermione asked.

Charlie glanced down at his watch strapped to his wrist, saying aloud, "Five-thirty."

'Was it really that late, or that early,' Hermione thought to herself. She didn't even feel that tired. Her talk with Charlie and their revelations of their feelings about one another seemed like days ago, instead of hours.

"But this time," Terrance started to say, "these damn poachers won't get anywhere near -,"

Terrance, however, never finished his statement for at that moment, a flurry of spells started flying over at them.

Charlie ran over and pulled Hermione down to the ground, laying his body atop of hers, shielding her from the flying debris.

Terrance swore loudly as he too dived for cover, while Phillip was hit directly in the face; he howled in pain as he tumbled backwards off of his chair.

"Anthony, Claude, Marcus, get down," Terrance yelled.

However, it had been too late: two of them had been blasted backward as Hermione then heard a sickening _crack_ , while the final worker was hit with a jet of white light, making him crumple onto the ground in a lifeless heap.

After a moment, the onslaught of spells ceased, as Terrance suddenly said, "They got broomsticks this time! Come on, let's go!"

Charlie picked himself off of Hermione as he helped her quickly stand to her feet.

"Are you alright? Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere," Charlie asked in quick succession, looking over Hermione to see if she was injured.

"No, I'm fine, I'm fine," she repeated. "We have to stop them, Charlie."

"I know, let's get to it."

Pointing his wand at a seemingly random corner, Charlie yelled, " _ACCIO_!"

Suddenly, three broomsticks appeared, as he threw one to Terrance, and the other to Phillip, who had regained his composure, though he had a nasty gash running the length of his forehead, turning his face into a crimson mask.

"Where's mine," Hermione asked, looking at the broomstick Charlie clutched tightly in his hand, her fear of flight forgotten for the time being as a mad rush of adrenaline pumped through her veins like a hot fire.

"You're riding with me," he said, "now come on!"

"Charlie, Phillip, you go on ahead…I'm going to send a message to the other workers and I'll join you," Terrance commanded.

After Charlie helped Hermione climb aboard behind him, he turned to glance over his shoulder and instructed, "Hold on tightly; I'm going to be flying fast."

Hermione wrapped her arms around his middle, as a flair of anxiety continued to course through her, while the thought of flying raced into her mind as well. Without any warning, Charlie's broomstick darted off, out of the Center of Directions, before it bolted directly upwards into the sky, with Phillip following close behind. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Terrance shooting what looked like a white wall out of his wand towards the flats of the reserve workers.

"Charlie," Hermione yelled, as the wind shrieked against them, pounding against their eardrums, "where did these brooms come from?"

"We always have an extra set in the Center of Directions in times of crises," he shouted back. "It's a good thing too, as it came in handy just now! There! Do you seem them?"

Hermione looked to where Charlie's finger was extended towards, as she saw two figures, mere dots against the still-darkened sky, racing away from them.

"Come on," Charlie edged on, looking down towards the broomstick he and Hermione were riding upon, "faster, faster, faster."

As her wild mane of hair blew behind her, threatening to part with her scalp due to how fast Charlie directed the broomstick to fly, Hermione looked to her right side and saw Phillip, his face still covered in his own blood though the searing wind seemed to siphon some of it off of him. She then looked to her left and saw Terrance keeping pace with them, a murderous look etched into his features.

As the dragon workers continued to gain ground upon the poachers, thin wisps of clouds rolled over them, as the moon and the stars continued to hover up above, seeming to give light to the chase that was ongoing below them.

Continuing to fly on, Hermione nearly forgot about all of her fears regarding the matter. However, she knew that if she was flying under different circumstances, her apprehension would be of a different state that what it was at that moment.

Far down below, Hermione made out the street lights of a certain Romanian town, twinkling amidst early-morning travelers, in which their headlights brightly lit up the nearly empty roadways.

"Hermione," Charlie called out, slightly craning his head towards her, "Woan is up ahead. Get ready."

She nodded in understanding, as just then, Charlie turned his broomstick towards the ground, as they were still following the poachers that had nearly landed.

As soon as they did, however, they turned their wands towards the sky and fired jets of light at their on-comers. Charlie skillfully maneuvered his broomstick, dodging each one, while both Terrance and Phillip veered off, raining down their own spells.

Hermione saw a jet of orange light headed straight for them. She waved her wand in a fluid motion and shouted, " _PROTEGO!_ " The orange jinx ricocheted away from them, and flew back towards it source. The poacher moved out of the way before Charlie fired off a jet of blue light at him. Their attacker waved it away where it blasted through a window of Garden Aplenty, sending tiny shards of glass into the air.

During this melee, Charlie managed to land his broom as he and Hermione gave chase to their assailant, who was fleeing down the street.

Hermione quickly looked behind her and saw that Terrance and the other poacher were flinging jets of light at one another in rapid succession, while Phillip gingerly stood to his feet, as the broomstick he had been riding on was lying feet from him, broken in two separate pieces.

Hermione returned to her task at hand, running side by side with Charlie, following the poacher who had since dodged behind a tree situated in front of Garments for Gentlemen and Gentlewomen.

Charlie and Hermione repeated his action, taking refuge behind a tree directly across the street in front of Tallyfine's Bakery.

Their attacker shot a jet of red light over at them which Charlie easily deflected. Hermione took this opportunity to yell out, " _INCENDIO!_ " The tree in which the poacher was hiding behind instantly burst aflame, causing him to dart away from it.

Charlie and Hermione both shot dual curses at him; however he ducked underneath them, before he pointed his wand and yelled, " _BOMBARDA MAXIMA!_ "

An explosion filled Hermione's ears as she felt the ground beneath her implode with a force so strong that it sent shock waves reverberating through her. In the next second, she and Charlie flew through a wide pane of glass, while she felt a stabbing pain in her left leg. They then crashed into a large pedestal which hosted a nicely-decorated cake.

After slamming into one wall of the confectionery, Hermione groaned in pain, as she struggled to stand to her feet. Though her vision was hazy, she barely made out a bloodied Phillip taking up arms with their attacker, Terrance and the other poacher lost on sight.

As a searing ache raced down her leg, she turned and saw Charlie, who was also grunting but was now moving around. It was then that Hermione realized she and Charlie were wearing crushed cake while green and white frosting covered their faces, hair, and clothes.

They both stood to their feet as Charlie asked, "Hermione, are you okay?"

She nodded, wiping the icing off of her face with her forearm, though the sting in her leg was becoming more pronounced.

Just then, Phillip screamed in pain, as Charlie and Hermione looked over at him to see him grab his arm while a thick rope began to wrap itself tightly around his neck, choking him.

They both rushed over, just as his eyes became bloodshot. Charlie pointed his wand at the ropes and yelled, " _RELASHIO!_ "

As they fell away from his neck, Phillip gasped out, "He has an egg!"

Hermione looked over and saw their attacker darting down the street. Grunting with all of her strength that she could muster, she darted after him, as she heard Charlie call out her name.

She aimed her wand and said, " _LOCOMOTOR MORTIS!_ "

The poacher's legs were suddenly bound together as he fell forward, falling face-first upon the smooth pavement, where Hermione saw blood burst out from his nose.

As Hermione ran towards the assailant, a body suddenly collided with her, viciously knocking her onto the ground. She turned her gaze upward and saw the second poacher, a snarl covering his face.

He kicked Hermione in the chest, forcefully knocking her back against the pavement where she hit the back of her head hard.

Crying out in pain, she saw the man point his wand down at her.

But, instead of issuing a curse, the man growled, "Yer fight fer what doesn't exist."

However, before anything further could happen, the attacker was blasted away from Hermione; her eyes followed his body as he crashed through the front door of Exquisite Exhibition, the jewelry store.

Charlie then came into view, kneeling towards the ground, as he helped Hermione into a sitting position, while Terrance raced over to the poacher who still had the leg-lock curse upon him.

Pointing his wand at the man's frame, Terrance said, " _STUPEFY!_ " A jet of red light flew down upon him, where he gave a weird jerk and became still.

Charlie looked over at Hermione, studying her face, as Terrance flipped over the poacher and started searching his clothes.

"This one doesn't have the egg…it must be the other one," Terrance remarked bitterly, rushing away from them.

Charlie didn't seem to hear him however, for at that moment, he pulled Hermione against his chest, hugging her with what seemed like all of his strength.

Hermione, however, cried out, causing Charlie to instantly let her go.

"Hermione, what is it," he asked in concern.

"My leg," she issued, "I think something's wrong with it."

They both looked over and saw that a sharp piece of glass was sticking out of it, her jeans matted with blood.

"It's okay," Charlie said patiently, looking back up at Hermione, "just breathe…take deep breaths for now."

"Are you alright," Hermione asked him.

She looked over and saw that he had a scrape across his neck, while he still had crushed cake and frosting hanging off of his shoulder and mixed in with his fiery red hair.

"I'll live," he said, "it's you and Phillip I'm worried about."

"Where is he," Hermione questioned.

Charlie looked to his left as Hermione followed his actions and saw that Phillip was lying upon the pavement, his arms spread out from his form.

"What happened," Hermione inquired.

"I think he was hit over the head with the brick that's lying next to him over there," Charlie pointed. "He's breathing but he's already lost so much blood. Do you think you can stand?"

"I'll try," Hermione issued, as Charlie grabbed her hands and lifted her to her feet, where she instantly fell against him. He harbored her weight, wrapping an arm around her waist, steadying her.

However, in the next instant, one of the walls of Exquisite Exhibition imploded, sending large chunks of concrete and stone flying in their direction.

" _PROTEGO_ ," Charlie yelled.

Then, to Hermione's horror, mere feet from them, the poacher had regained consciousness. Taking hold of his wand, he flung it in the air, as a deep gash appeared across Charlie's chest. He staggered at the sudden laceration as Hermione sagged under his weight.

They both roughly fell onto the pavement where Hermione fell onto the jagged glass, pushing it deeper into her leg.

As a throbbing sensation overtook her, the poacher disappeared with a small _POP_.

It was not even seconds later when an explosion was heard and Exquisite Exhibition came tumbling down, becoming nothing but a ruin, as a large cloud of gray smoke flew off into the early-morning sky, slowly disappearing with increasing altitudes.

Charlie whispered, "Terrance," as Hermione then passed out.


	11. A Rest from the Shadows

Hello everyone! Here is Chapter 11 of "Nocturnal"; I hope you like it! Chapter 12 will be posted Sunday night. Thanks for reading.

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Chapter 11: A Rest from the Shadows

Never mind the ache in her left leg, her body hurt all over. It throbbed against her very confines, her body vibrating to the sounds of heavy drums. She knew she was in a bad state, especially since she felt as if two steel fists were trying to pound their way out of her own head, but she was definitely in a very bad state. Her eyelids felt as if they weighed more than two colossal boulders, while the oxygen she filled her lungs with struggled with bated breath. She felt cold one second, and then hot the next, as if her body couldn't decide what it wanted to be. A lock of what she presumed to be her own hair tickled her cheeks and the base of her neck, yet she couldn't find the strength to lift her own hands up to brush them away.

She also was shaking, though from what, she didn't exactly know; it wasn't as if she was cold, for at that moment, she felt beads of sweat dot her hairline. A low murmur of voices echoed around her, but she couldn't make out any one in particular. They all meshed together, sounding like a faint hum of noise, all irregular, all the same.

Time ticked by, but how much, she didn't know the answer to that either. At times, she could feel the presence of others in the room, yet they didn't speak, they just were there. All the while, the events of what had happened back in Romania replayed over again and again like a broken record, in her own mind.

Dragon poachers…they had been the cause of everything that she could remember. They infiltrated the encampment; they captured and bound Philip; they tried to maim her, Charlie, Phillip, and Terrance; there was a skirmish in Woan…there was a lot of blood, most of it coming from Phillip's deep gash that crossed his forehead, scarring him, while a piece of glass had been sticking out of her leg. To top it all off, she remembered Charlie receiving a fresh wound over his chest, while the jewelry store, Exquisite Exhibition, collapsed on top of Terrance.

What had happened to them…what had happened to Charlie? Just when she worked up the courage to divulge her true feelings to him, feelings that went past the boundaries of friendship, did something like this, something bad, happen to them. Was it fair? 'No, of course not,' she thought inwardly to herself, for her speaking capabilities were still quite limited at that point in time. 'But really, what could we do about it? What's done is done, right?'

Sometime later, what stretched on for hours in her own head, she felt her eyelids grow lighter, shifting off some of its earlier weight. At this time, she still felt a presence nearby, perhaps of maybe more than one person. Still with an effort, she lifted her eyelids open, breaking back into the realm of reality.

Upon her awakening, she heard the sounds of scuttling, shoes squeaking across the floor of wherever she was, as the faces of Harry, Ron, and Ginny suddenly appeared, all three of them looking down at her in a worried and anxious manner.

"W-Where am I," Hermione asked lightly, realizing her throat felt as if she had swallowed a bucket of sand collected from a desert that had seen no rain in a long time.

"You're in St. Mungo's," Harry voiced, apprehension covering his features.

"Hermione, are you okay," Ginny asked at the same time.

"You look terrible," Ron pronounced as well, making both Harry and Ginny give him cold looks.

"What, she does," Ron said in a defensive manner.

Hermione sensed movement nearby from Ginny as a second later, Ron said, "Bloody hell, Ginny, what did you kick me for!?"

"Ron you prat! You can be really -," Ginny started.

"Quit it, you guys," Harry cut her off in a forceful manner, before he returned his attention back on Hermione. "Are you alright?"

Hermione groaned, doing her best to sit upright, as he questioned, "I'm in St. Mungo's? Why?"

Harry, Ginny, and Ron all shot each other looks of unease, before Ginny said, "Hermione, don't you remember what happened?"

Hermione swallowed, 'A bad mistake,' she thought to herself, as she said, "Well the last thing I remember is being attacked in Romania. Dragon poachers," Hermione continued on, taking an interest in the soft hospital bed sheets that covered her, "everyone was hurt." Suddenly, a name dawned upon her, a name she had been thinking of when she was stuck in limbo moments before. "Charlie…where is he? How is he?"

"He's doing alright," Ron answered, though his face was a sickly pale; Hermione mentally thought that he could've passed for a Hogwarts' ghost. "He just hasn't woken up yet. He's down the hall from you. Mum and dad are with him now. Bill, Fred, George, and Percy are somewhere here also, I think, unless they already left."

Hermione let out a deep, long sigh, her chest being relieved of the concern that had been set against it.

"How long have I been out," Hermione inquired next.

"Several hours," Harry responded, "we were all at the Burrow about to have breakfast when we received the news about you being attacked."

At this bit of knowledge, Hermione looked off to the side, muttering, "It feels like it happened much longer ago."

"I'm going to go grab a healer," Ginny suddenly said, taking one of Hermione's hands and squeezing it, before giving her a smile, and letting go, departing from the room.

"Hang on: Phillip and Terrance," Hermione announced in a wild manner, remembering Phillip's own blood pouring down his face and a building collapsing atop of Terrance, "are they here?"

"Who," Ron queried, his face scrunched up in confusion.

Hermione looked helplessly over at Harry, who wore the same expression as Ron.

"They, Phillip and Terrance, they were with us in Woan, fighting the dragon poachers," Hermione answered in a somewhat dejected manner, wondering what the fates of the two handlers were. A soft voice in her head whispered the word, 'Dead,' but Hermione shook her head at that, refusing to believe that was the fate the two had met in Romania earlier that very morning.

"Woan," Ron repeated, puzzled.

"It's the name of the magical community in Romania," she answered.

"Yeah, I think that's where Kingsley said someone found you," Harry said, nodding his head a little, before he fell quiet.

Hermione looked over again at Harry and Ron, and felt her uneasiness soften at the sight of them, as they were looking over at her with apologetic stares.

"What," Hermione asked.

Harry sighed, as he said, "When we heard about the attack earlier this morning, we were all told that everyone that had been brought in looked bad. We were scared, Hermione…I was scared. We've all been through so much together. The fact that this happened to you all the way over in Romania, I felt so helpless."

"We all did," Ron quipped, looking down at Hermione solemnly, "it was terrible."

Hermione felt the corners of her mouth tug upward slightly, replying, "I feel okay, maybe a little thirsty and my leg still hurts."

Harry, however, instantly waved his wand, making a cup filled with water appear in mid-air.

"Thanks," Hermione said softly, taking the glass and downing its cold contents, making her throat feel afresh like it breathed with a new skin and a new life.

Just then, a healer walked inside the room, followed behind by Ginny.

"Nice to see you awake, Miss Granger," the healer said, smiling down at her. "My name is Healer Millie, and I will be looking after you."

Hermione saw that Healer Millie appeared to be quite young, though some years older than she. She had a heart-shaped face, along with long brown hair that was perfectly straight, as a slight tan coated her face.

"How do you feel, Miss Granger?"

"I think I'm fine," Hermione started, taking an audible gulp, "but my leg hurts."

Healer Millie nodded, before she looked over at Harry and Ron.

"Gentlemen, if you please," she said lightly, nodding her head away from Hermione's bed. They seemed to get the message as they, along with Ginny, took several steps backward and stood against one wall of the room, Harry looking over at Hermione in a worried but protective manner.

Healer Millie lifted the soft sheets that covered Hermione, unearthing Hermione's bare legs. Looking down, Hermione saw that she had a large bandage over where the piece of glass had pierced her, it dotted with blood while a ghastly purple color started coating its borders.

"It looks better than it did before," Healer Millie noted in a rather cheerful voice, "but it seems as if the glass struck you far deeper than I had originally thought. I'm going to brew you a potion that will fix that right away."

Healer Millie then recovered Hermione's legs, before she dashed out of the hospital room.

"I went to check in on Charlie," Ginny said, taking a cautious step forward in Hermione's direction, "but he still hasn't woken up yet."

Hermione, who had been tense at the sound of Charlie's name, deflated against the pillow situated at her back, nodding her head glumly.

"Did you let mum and dad know that Hermione woke up," Ron asked, looking over at his sister, "they said they wanted to know."

Ginny nodded her head wordlessly in answer.

"I assume they'll be -," Ginny started to say, however, she was cut off again.

"Oh, Hermione!" All heads turned towards the voice to see Mrs. Weasley rush inside the room, her face a round flesh of falling tears. Coming to her bedside, Mrs. Weasley asked, "Oh, dear, are you alright?"

"I feel better since waking up," Hermione said while fixating a small smile over her face, "it's just that my leg is in some pain still."

"Did a healer come and see you through," Mrs. Weasley questioned, a slight edge to her tone.

"Yes, yes, she just went to get some potions and said she'll be right back," Hermione said quickly.

"We were all so worried about you," Mrs. Weasley then remarked, echoing Harry and Ron's words from earlier, "you and Charlie hurt all the way in Romania!"

"Mrs. Weasley," Hermione started in as much of a calm demeanor as she could manage, "how is Charlie?"

The Weasley matriarch gave Hermione a sad smile, saying, "He hasn't yet come to, dear, but he's been mumbling quite a bit. The healer says that he should be up shortly. Also, I brought along some of your clothes. They're in that wardrobe there," she continued, pointing to a large dresser than was positioned against one wall.

Hermione nodded her head, feeling her chest constrict in a lonely mode, as if one whistle continued to carry a tune, its partner having already passed on.

"Here we are," Healer Millie said, reentering back into the room, carrying two vials in her hand. Mrs. Weasley stepped back as Healer Millie stepped forward.

"Miss Granger, I'm going to need you to take these potions. This one," Healer Millie said, holding up a thin, glass bottle, containing a bright, yellow concoction, "is for the pain in your leg. This one," she continued, holding up the second one, as Hermione saw a dark red potion, "is for blood recirculation down through your legs. I'm afraid neither one tastes very good, so it's best to tip them back as fast as you can."

Hermione took the two vials in her hand and swallowed the bright yellow first, as the back of her throat burned like a pot of hot water had been poured down it. Gasping, she took hold of the dark red potion, gulping it, yet that tasted like a large swig of slime.

Hermione felt her face mask disgust, as Healer Millie waved her wand, making a second glass of water appear.

"Drink this, it'll help," she commanded softly.

Hermione didn't need to be told twice, as the two horrid potions were mixing together at the pit of her stomach, churning into revolting waters, making Hermione doubt if she could keep them down. However, the cold water she drank felt like a wave of calm wash over her.

"Better," Healer Millie asked.

"A bit," Hermione responded.

"Very good, very good but I'm afraid I'm going to have to keep you here for a while longer, Miss Granger, just to see how those potions fare."

With a smile, Healer Millie left the room again, just as Mrs. Weasley commented that she was going to check up on Charlie.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny walked forward and crowded around Hermione's bed, troubled looks glued to their faces.

"I feel fine," Hermione tried to placate to them, adding in a fresh smile. "You don't need to worry about me."

"Hermione, what happened to you and Charlie in Romania," Ginny asked quietly, "I mean, you don't have to tell us if you don't won't to," she tacked on.

Hermione sighed, brushing a stray piece of hair out of her face, as she began, "Charlie and I were on the graveyard shift."

"What's the graveyard shift," Ron interjected innocently.

"It's where the dragon reserve workers keep watch upon the different dragon pens during the night," Hermione answered. "Anyway, we were with another worker, named Phillip. After a while, Charlie and I heard a sound and we noticed that Phillip was missing. We went looking for him in the forest that surrounds the entire encampment, and we found him tied to a tree with barbed wire."

"Barbed wire," Ron and Ginny chorused, both of their faces masking horror.

"Barbed wire," Hermione confirmed. "He looked as if he had been beaten up. We helped him out of the Alarm pen we were in -,"

"Hang on," Ron interrupted again, "Alarm pen?"

"There are three different dragon pens," Hermione explained patiently, "the Tepid pen, Alarm pen, and Primitive pen; each dragon is placed in one of them according to their characteristics. So, Charlie and I helped Phillip out of the Alarm pen and to the Center of Directions, a large pavilion that is situated in front of the entrance to the actual dragon reserve.

"There, we were attacked by the two dragon poachers that had entered the camp. They then flew on broomsticks to the wizarding community, Woan, and Charlie, Phillip, Terrance, another reserve worker, and I all followed. The last thing that I remember is fighting in Woan and ending up in here," Hermione finished.

The room was silent for a long minute, as Harry, Ron, and Ginny each digested the story Hermione had told them.

"How did the dragon poachers come onto the reserve," Harry asked, his brow furrowed together in concentration.

"I don't know," Hermione said honestly, shrugging her shoulders.

"Is it possible that they apparated to it," Ginny suggested.

"It's possible," Hermione relayed, "but Charlie told me you can't apparate anywhere within the three dragon pens."

"How, then, are the poachers able to escape," Ron questioned.

"Woan has anti-apparition wards over it from midnight to six in the morning, to guard against poachers. At six, though, the wards automatically lift. The poachers are then able to apparate away," Hermione said.

"So then this attack happened really early then," Ginny surmised.

"Around five-thirty," Hermione said back.

"Blimey," Ron remarked, his eyes wide.

"But no one came to help," Ginny piped in, "you would think that the other workers on the reserve would've come to help, right?"

"Terrance said that he sent a message back to the other workers but no one ever came," Hermione said, her mind pondering over Ginny's insight, something that hadn't occurred to her until that very moment.

"Doesn't that seem strange though," Ron proposed, "I mean, Charlie's told us before that they haven't had a problem with dragon poachers in a long time but that the reserve is always ready for an attack; I heard him telling dad a day before you left. Why wouldn't the other workers respond to a call for help from this bloke Terrance?"

Hermione, whose eyes had been trained on Ron's, cast hers downwards, shifting over her warm, smooth sheets that covered her frame. Sifting through these questions made her head hurt, yet both Ron and Ginny brought up interesting points that required answers when none were here to give. Was it possible that this was a miscalculation of sorts or was it something more sinister, slithering its way down in the depths, away from prying eyes, working amongst the shadows, being kept hidden from being uncovered.

The more Hermione racked her brain for any tidbit of information she may have missed in the ensuing melee back in Romania hours prior, nothing surfaced.

"Hermione," Harry started, snapping Hermione out of her stupor, "Kingsley came by earlier, and I overheard him and the Weasleys talking with each other."

"What did they say?"

"From what I could make out, the Romanian Ministry wants to question you and Charlie over what happened, while our own Ministry wants to do also. I don't think you're going to be in any trouble since none of this was your fault, but that's just what Kinsley said," Harry told her, his mouth now a grim line.

Hermione nodded her head at him in understanding. Before any further words could be exchanged, Mrs. Weasley came tearing into the room, her face a red flush, her breathing uneven, as she exclaimed wildly, "Charlie's awake! Charlie's awake! The healer said that he's going to make a full recovery!"

Harry, Ron, and Ginny all turned to look at her while Hermione further sagged against the pillows at her back, relieved that Charlie was going to be okay.

"Ron, Ginny, come with me to visit your brother for a bit and let Hermione rest," Mrs. Weasley said in a slightly scornful manner, making it seem as if her two youngest children didn't know better of when to leave a healing patient alone.

"We'll be back soon," Ginny whispered, as she and Ron followed their mother out of Hermione's room, disappearing from view.

Harry, however, opted to stay behind. Pulling up a chair beside Hermione's bed, he sat in it and sighed heavily.

"What's wrong, Harry," Hermione questioned.

Harry gave her an incredulous look, saying, "Hermione, you're lying in a hospital bed after you were attacked in Romania, and you're asking me what's wrong?"

"We weren't attacked exactly," Hermione responded, more of the fight coming back to her now, "we actually chased the dragon poachers to Woan."

"And Woan is -,"

"The wizarding community in Romania," she reminded him, "the only one. It houses the Romanian Unitary Magical Republic."

"Right," he confirmed.

"I'm okay though," she continued, "you don't need to worry about me."

"I can't help it," Harry remarked.

As Hermione continued to look over at him blankly, he went on, "Hermione, you're like a sister to me, my best friend. We went through a lot together, you me, and Ron; there's so much that has happened to us and because of us. You mean a lot to me, you really do. Hearing that you were hurt in St. Mungo's…I felt sick to my stomach thinking about it."

Hermione smiled at Harry's words, comforted by the thought that she was like a sister to him.

"We have been in too many hospital wards when you think about it, you, me, and Ron," she stated, making Harry scoff. "Thank you, Harry, but I really am fine; I'll be okay."

This time, Harry nodded his own head in understanding, as Hermione tried to steer their conversation out of choppy waters.

"You and Ron started Auror training this week, didn't you," she inquired.

"We did," he said.

"And how was it?"

"Well, I think Ron and I think differently about how it is going," Harry supplied.

"What do you mean?" Hermione felt her forehead crinkle at his abstract declaration, wondering if Auror training didn't live up to Harry's, Ron's, or both of their expectations.

Harry seemed to struggle with his vernacular, toying with what expression would best describe their first couple of days of instruction.

"I like it," Harry admitted, "even the first couple of days have been useful. Ron, well, he said it reminded him of being back at Hogwarts."

Hermione looked over at Harry, finding the meaning he didn't pronounce.

"Almost like another class," she surmised, as Harry gave a short nod of his head in answer.

"He can't do any more schooling, Hermione. Auror training, to him, is like more schooling. Our professor, Auror Reich, told us on the first day that in order to pass the program, we would have to pay attention to every detail during the lectures so that we can properly apply our learning to when we physically train. From what I've seen so far, Ron hasn't been paying much attention; in fact, I would be surprised if he has paid any attention at all."

"You don't think he's cut out for it?"

"Sitting through lectures, no. But like I said before, he's been through a lot with us, so I'm sure he'll do much better when we're actually practicing different spells and jinxes," Harry said.

"How many people are there in the program," Hermione asked.

"About eleven or twelve," Harry replied, "not too many."

Hermione nodded as she then said, "Don't you and Ron have Auror training today?"

At this, Harry looked down at his wrist, as Hermione noticed that he was wearing a watch, something she has never seen on him before, as he said back, "It starts in about ten minutes, actually. But just so you know, if you or Charlie still hadn't woken up by the time training started, Ron and I wouldn't have gone."

"Harry, you mustn't miss a class," Hermione scolded. "I'm sure what you are learning is extremely important!"

What Harry did next surprised Hermione, so much so that she wondered if she was still asleep and hadn't yet shifted back into actuality: Harry laughed.

"What," Hermione asked rather defensively.

"Nothing, nothing…you just reminded me back when we were in Hogwarts," he commented, a smile hugging his mouth.

Hermione then started smiling herself, just as a herd of people started to make its way back into her room.

Hermione barely noticed Mrs. Weasley, Ron, and Ginny, for her brown eyes found sea blue ones, those that belonged to Charlie. She saw that he had already changed out of the customary gown supplied to the patients of St. Mungo's, as he was dressed in a plain dark green t-shirt, and blue jeans.

Harry, also now noticing half of the Weasley clan had reappeared, stood up from his seat.

Looking back over at her, he asked, "Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

Hermione glanced over at him and replied, "I'll be fine, Harry. You and Ron should go to Auror training."

Hearing Ron groan feet away, Harry smirked down at Hermione and reached out for her hand, giving it a hard squeeze.

"I guess I'll see you tonight back at the Burrow then," he said softly to her, in which she nodded her head in confirmation.

Harry then let her hand go and turned towards Ron, saying, "Ron, we'd better hurry or we're going to be late."

Mrs. Weasley bade them 'goodbye' as she moved forward towards Hermione, Ginny flanking one of her sides.

"Hermione, dear, I just spoke with you healer and she said that you should be released before lunch. I already told Charlie this but I'm going to tell you the same: I want the both of you to come straight to the Burrow when you are let go. You two have been through such an ordeal so early in the morning that you two really do need your rest. Okay," Mrs. Weasley pressed.

"That sounds great. Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione responded.

"It's no bother at all. I'll have a hot plate of lunch for you and Charlie ready when you return."

After Hermione nodded, Ginny took a step forward, bent down, and hugged Hermione, whispering in her ear, "I'm so glad you're alright. I was so scared."

As Ginny pulled away, Hermione gave her a warm smile in which she returned. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny then left, leaving Hermione and Charlie alone together.

Hermione remembered the last time she and Charlie had been alone…it was when she revealed her feelings for him back in the Alarm pen on the dragon reserve in Romania. Holding his gaze, she felt her heart start to race, beating faster and faster than what was normal of it.

He slowly walked over to her, his hands at his sides, his fiery red hair a bit disheveled and not in its usual clean state. He had a two bruises plastered over his face, while his neck had a vivid scar than ran across its side.

Sidestepping the chair Harry had occupied minutes earlier, he instead sat atop of Hermione's bed, minding the position of her legs.

They looked at each other, neither saying a word in fear that they would shatter the globe that held them, pushing them towards each other like magnets.

Charlie reached out a hand to touch her, perhaps caress her face, yet he stopped mid-reach, as he looked almost as if he was afraid to carry through of his initial action. As a look of inward pain stretched over his features, he retracted his hand and let it fall gently against the bed, a soft _thump_ sounding against Hermione's ears.

"How are you," he finally asked, taking a large gulp.

"Fine," she said, "but I've felt better," she continued, trying to lighten the mood, but Charlie's face remained a stone mask.

"I never meant for things to turn out the way they did in Romania," he stated.

"Charlie, don't think for one second that any of this is your fault," Hermione said, sitting up straighter. "There was no way you could've known that dragon poachers were going to infiltrate the reserve the week we were there. That's impossible."

"You got hurt, Hermione," he responded simply, yet for him, it seemed as if his statement weighed him down like a steel anchor, securing itself to the bottom of the ocean's floor, the pressure of the water pressing in on him from all sides.

"We all got hurt, not just me," she said. "Have you heard, about Phillip and Terrance?"

"They both have more serious injuries but they'll live," he said.

"You don't sound relieved," she punctuated.

"Because I've been more worried about you."

"Charlie, I'm fine, really. The healer says that my leg should be fine and that I'll be cleared to go soon," Hermione said.

Charlie, however, didn't seem convinced.

"How are you," she then asked.

"Fine," he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"And what about your cut on your chest?"

In answer, he lifted up his shirt and revealed an long, pink gash that stretched over his hard torso. "The healer said it'll never fully go away but it should fade somewhat over time."

"It doesn't hurt, does it?"

At this, Charlie smirked and said, "I've had burns that have been much worse. I'll be fine."

Hermione nodded her head before she questioned, "Charlie, have you been to see Phillip and Terrance?"

"They're not awake," he answered, "I just looked in on them. The healer looking over them said that they should make a full recovery but it'll be a couple of days before they will be able to leave St. Mungo's."

Hermione nodded her head before she said, "Something went wrong."

Charlie looked over at her for a long second before he nodded his head.

"You're right," he agreed, "something was off this morning in communications but I don't know what it was."

"Harry said that the Romanian Ministry and our Ministry want to question us about what happened," Hermione said.

"Of course they do," Charlie said, and for the first time since she had woken up back in London, he smiled. However, it wasn't a comical one or a funny one, but it was a smile of political undermining. "We need to be careful, Hermione. The Ministry of Magic doesn't have friendly relations with the one in Romania."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that our two Ministries could spin their own tales about what happened for their own personal gain. From here on out, the fight is going to be political."

"I don't want anything to do with politics," Hermione remarked, thinking she had her fill of it beginning in her fifth year at Hogwarts.

"Nor do I," Charlie said, "all we have to do is keep our stories straight and hope everything works out for the best, meaning hopefully civilized and cooler heads prevail."

"Why is it different this time?"

Charlie cocked his head at her, confusion seeping into his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, dragon poachers have infiltrated the reserve before, right?"

Charlie nodded his head in answer.

"Then why hasn't it been this complicated in the past?"

"For one, the last time dragon poachers came onto the reserve, they weren't able to steal anything. Second, nothing in Woan was destroyed besides a random bench. And lastly, this network of dragon poachers that exists now didn't exist before. These poachers have learned, Hermione, from their past mistakes. It makes everything more real, and everything more threatening. For all we know, there could be people part of this dragon poacher network that work on our own reserve. It's getting more dangerous."

"Do you know how many eggs were stolen?"

Charlie shook his head from side to side, responding, "No, but I remember Phillip said that one of the poachers had an egg. Terrance searched the one on the ground near us and didn't find anything. He then went into Exquisite Exhibition, and…well the building collapsed on top of him."

"How did he survive?"

"I don't know exactly as he hasn't woken up to tell me anything yet, but I'd imagine he was able to apparate out of there just in time," Charlie deduced.

"Do you know how big this network of dragon poachers is," Hermione questioned.

"No, but if I had to take a guess, I would say it's quite large. There is a fear that I've heard brought up that the dragon poachers might form an alliance of sorts with poachers of other magical creatures to create a worldwide poacher association. That's, of course, if it hasn't happened already."

"So what happened in Romania may be only a small part of what is really going on," Hermione asked.

"Most likely," Charlie answered solemnly. "It seems like the magical community is getting more dangerous as time goes by, doesn't it?"

Hermione nodded, feeling her chest tighten at the thought that they may be facing a problem that was bigger than she had originally envisioned. A worldwide poacher network of magical creatures…how could they possibly bring that down? Of course, it still was all hypothetical; there was a chance, however small, that this whole system might not even be real.

And then it hit her: real.

She remembered back in Woan, one of the poachers said something to her that she didn't make sense of then, and most likely wouldn't make sense of now, but it was still worth telling to Charlie.

"Charlie," Hermione began, making him look over at her, "this morning, one of the poachers said something to me."

This heightened his interest, for he asked, "What was it?"

Hermione racked her brain for the exact words he spoke to her, as she noticed he spoke with a heavy accent, but of its origin, she didn't know.

"He said something like 'we fight for something that doesn't exist.' I don't know what he meant by that."

"We fight for something that doesn't exist," Charlie repeated, testing each word as if they were of an assortment of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "Did he say anything else?"

"No, that was it."

Charlie looked away from Hermione, as she noticed his eyes had floated off to a distant land of a former memory. He seemed to ponder over the words yet Hermione knew from the look on his face that he wasn't making any sense of them; no connection was formed and no revelation came forward…it was all just a bunch of loose nuts and bolts with no time or reason to exist.

"I don't know what that means," Charlie said after a moment, "but it's definitely something."

Hermione nodded her head at him, as she concluded that for now, they had reached a dead end. Hopefully when Phillip and Terrance woke up, some pieces of the puzzle would be provided so that a clearer picture could be painted before them.

"So what happens now," Hermione asked. "Do we go back to Romania or wait here?"

"We wait until we are given direct orders from Director Mulligan. Terrance said that he went to Canada to examine the Victorian Shaler in its natural habitat. But I assume that it won't take long for him to come back with everything that's happened."

When Charlie finished speaking, he didn't look away from Hermione, but kept his eyes trained on her. She had a fleeting feeling of what he wanted to talk about next, but didn't press him forward; she waited for him to take the first step.

"Hermione," Charlie breathed, in a more quiet tone of voice than before, "do you remember what we were talking about before we noticed that Phillip was missing?"

"How could I forget," Hermione laughed once.

Charlie smiled a small smile before he went on, "Your feelings haven't changed?"

"Charlie, I only told you this several hours ago," Hermione said, giving him a strange look.

"I know but it feels like it was much longer ago. I just…well everything I told you about waiting until we were alone, away from my family…everything is different now," he replied, a note of uncertainty seeping into his vocal chords.

"To me, Charlie, none of that matters. Whether we are in England or Romania, I still have feelings for you."

"And I have feelings for you, too. I just don't want to mess anything up," he noted, "but I want to try."

Hermione gave him a quizzical look, saying, "You want to try to mess things up?"

"No! No, no, no. I meant that," he took a deep breath, "I want to try with you. I want to take you out, Hermione, on dates, just the two of us. I want to spend time alone with you in places where no one can bother us. I want to be able to tell you things that no one else, not even my family, knows about. I want to be with you, Hermione, but only if you'll have me."

Hermione's grin grew wider the more Charlie talked, as he wanted the same things that she did.

"Of course I'll have you, Charlie," Hermione said, "I'll have you anyway I can."

The two then started to move closer to one another, large smiles coating both of their faces. Hermione's heart started racing faster than it had been just seconds ago, as tiny beads of water traced the lines etched within her palms. As they grew closer and closer together, now mere inches from each other, Hermione wondered again if this was all just a dream of hers; if it was, all she wished for was for this kiss between her and Charlie to happen before she woke up.

The gap between them was so small that Hermione was sure that not even the wings of a fairy could pass through.

Sensing Charlie's closeness, Hermione wondered if she should take the initiative and close the small opening that separated them, or if she should wait and let him do it.

Just as she decided that she was going to take the jump and dive in head first, a voice suddenly said, "Well Miss Granger, I -,"

Healer Millie stopped in her tracks as her words died in her throat, just as Charlie and Hermione jumped apart, red coloring their cheeks.

"Well, I, uh, just wanted to check in on you Miss Granger, and see if the two potions I gave you earlier started to take effect," she stammered, her own cheeks growing a slight pink.

Charlie moved off the bed and walked over to a lone corner, his arms folded over his chest, making his biceps swell past their normal size.

"Now, I need you to lay down on your back for me," Healer Millie instructed.

Hermione did as she was told while Healer Millie moved her bed sheets off of her body and waved her wand over Hermione in a complicated pattern.

"Everything seems to be on track," Healer Millie noted, nodding her head.

Hermione lifted her head up a few inches and saw that a bright green dot was placed on her leg where her wound was.

"Green means good," Healer Millie said with a small smile as she noticed where Hermione was looking. "It's only when it's red that we start to worry."

"Does that mean I get to leave," Hermione asked with an air of hope in her voice, not liking the fact that she was confined to St. Mungo's.

"Yes, Miss Granger, that means you get to leave. I'm going to fill out some paperwork and you can be on your way."

Healer Millie then waved her wand, making the green dot on Hermione's leg vanish as she then left the room.

Charlie and Hermione both looked awkwardly at each other, not knowing if they should resume their near-first kiss that been interrupted (in fear that their action would be hampered again).

However, just then, a thought came to Hermione.

"Charlie, what about Phillip and Terrance? Do we just leave them here?"

"Well, there's not much we can do about them right now, Hermione; they still haven't woke up yet." After a slight pause, he continued, "I'll tell you what, after we go back to the Burrow and have a spot of lunch, we'll come back here and stay with them, alright?"

Seeing no better alternative, and the fact that she was now growing hungry, Hermione nodded her head at his plan, as she felt that both Phillip and Terrance would appreciate for at least someone to be near their bedsides when they awoke.

Healer Millie returned a few minutes later, and discharged Hermione, saying she was free to go. With that bit of news, she changed into clothes Mrs. Weasley had brought by earlier. Afterwards, Charlie pulled her to him, wrapping her in a fierce hug, as Hermione felt his huge arms snake around her as she placed her own arms around him. He didn't apparate away just yet, and Hermione was glad of the fact as she was perfectly comfortable snuggled against his chest, listening to his heart pound to a constant rhythm.

"As strange as this sounds, I don't want to go," Charlie commented.

Hermione pulled away from him slightly, saying, "We'll come back soon."

Charlie looked down at her, smiling a little, and responding, "That's not what I meant."

Gazing up at him with questioning eyes, Charlie didn't elaborate, as in the next second, he and Hermione disappeared with a small _POP_.


	12. A Rushed Remedy

Hello all! I now present to you Chapter 12 of "Nocturnal!" Originally, this chapter was meant to be double its current length, but I decided that if I published my initial plans I had for this chapter, it would've been a jumbled mess. Therefore, I split this chapter into two separate parts, with part 2 becoming Chapter 13 which will be posted Wednesday morning. Thanks for reading.

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Chapter 12: A Rushed Remedy

Charlie and Hermione arrived back at the Burrow, the early afternoon sun heating their bodies as it continued its slow rise in the blue sky, as only a small mixture of clouds roamed about. A small, light wind ruffled their clothes yet to Hermione, the wind was a welcome supplement to warm temperature.

Hermione's leg felt as if it had been replaced with a brand new one, as no trace that a sharp piece of glass had pierced her skin was now seen. Charlie seemed content too, as one of his arms was wrapped around Hermione's waist, tickling her, though she liked it how it felt.

Upon entering inside the home, Mrs. Weasley and Ginny turned to look at the new entrants; when they did so, both had smiles coating their faces.

"Come in, come in," Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, waving them forward with one of her hands, "and sit down. Lunch is nearly ready."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, giving her a small smile while she sat down at the kitchen table across from Ginny, as Charlie slid in beside Hermione, close enough that their shoulders brushed one another's. At this, Hermione noticed that a certain small sparkle materialized in Ginny's eyes, a gleam that Hermione was certain she had seen before. However, with a blink, it had vanished.

"Are you alright, Hermione," Ginny asked, "with you leg and all."

"Yes, it feels great," Hermione responded, nodding her head.

"And what about me," Charlie interjected, resting both of his arms upon the table, looking over at his youngest sibling with an innocent glance.

"What about you," Ginny said back, one of her eyebrows quirked upward.

"You haven't asked if I was alright."

"Yes, I did, back at St. Mungo's I asked if you were okay," Ginny supplied, shooting her brother a queer look.

"But you haven't since Hermione and I arrived back at the Burrow," Charlie shot back.

Ginny rolled her eyes before she turned her attention back on Hermione and asked, "So what happens next? Do you and Charlie have to go back to Romania?"

Hermione shot a quick look over at Charlie, who nodded his head towards his side, as if saying 'You can answer this.'

"We have to wait for the director of the reserve, Director Mulligan, to see what we do," Hermione answered.

"Well I mean, he wouldn't make you go back there after what happened, would he," Ginny surmised, though her statement was hinted with a small sense of doubt.

"You never know, Ginny," Charlie intervened, shrugging his shoulders, "it all depends on what he thinks will be best. I'd imagine we would only go back to collect our belongings and come back here."

"When does the dragon reserve in Wales open," Ginny questioned.

"Next week, the same day you head off to Hogwarts," Charlie replied easily.

"I would hope that this Director Mulligan would have enough sense to keep both you and Hermione away from danger," Mrs. Weasley interpolated, turned halfway around from the stove, where a flurry of sounds and smells were emitting from, "I mean, for heaven's sake, you were all badly hurt."

This time, Charlie rolled his eyes, though only Hermione and Ginny saw, as he responded, "None of us were that badly hurt, mum; were all just mildly injured."

"How about you tell that to the other workers that were brought back with you," she shot back smartly, her voiced mixed with mild scolding, "they didn't seem to have awoken each time I passed by their windows."

Charlie shook his head but decided not to say anything. Hermione knew that Mrs. Weasley never liked for Charlie to work with dragons, as he had told her on several different occasions that his mum wanted him to vie for Ministry position. This attack only gave Mrs. Weasley the ammunition she needed when she went on about how dangerous this occupation was. Hermione knew that it wasn't her fault; Mrs. Weasley only wanted her family to be safe, and coming after the cessation of Voldemort's terror that had been unleashed upon their community, no fault could be found in that favor.

Hermione rested her hand upon Charlie's arm, as she sensed that he didn't handle ridicule well of his dragon handling. With her touch, he looked up at her and gave her a dazzling smile, making Hermione shake with silent laughter at his boyish grin, neither one of them noticing that the twinkle had returned in Ginny's eyes.

"We're going to back to St. Mungo's after lunch to see how they are doing," Charlie announced to Mrs. Weasley, while his sea blue irises stayed on Hermione's warm brown eyes, as his hand clamped down over hers, keeping it in place.

"Are they friends of yours," Ginny inquired.

Charlie redirected his gaze back on Ginny, though his hand remained over Hermione's.

"Yeah, they both are, I guess," he said, making Hermione give him a quizzical look. He turned towards her and shrugged his shoulders again, making Hermione wonder if he was willing to let sleeping dogs lie and befriend Phillip.

"One of them went to Hogwarts with you, right," Mrs. Weasley voiced, her attention still on the cooking and sizzling food.

"Both of them did, actually. Terrance was in Gryffindor with me, while Phillip was a year behind us in Ravenclaw," Charlie said.

"Didn't we meet Terrance one time," Ginny cut in, her eyes on Charlie, though she looked deep in thought, combing through her own memories, "I thought he looked familiar when we passed by his window earlier."

"You did but the last time he came here, you were really young," Charlie answered.

"Oh yes," Mrs. Weasley expressed, "I remember Terrance now. He used to come here over the summers. You two were always outside before the sun came up until after the sun went down."

"We used to play Quidditch a lot," Charlie told Hermione, who smiled lightly in return, thinking about all of the times Harry and Ron had done the same at the Burrow during their own summers away from Hogwarts.

"Was he on the Gryffindor house team," Hermione asked.

"No, but he liked playing probably more than some of the people on the team did," he responded shortly.

"Was he good enough to play on the house team," Ginny inquired next.

Charlie thought about this for a moment, tilting his head back and forth, as if it was a seesaw, before replying, "He was good, I guess, but our team was fine without him."

"Here we are," Mrs. Weasley suddenly said, as plates piled with food plopped down upon the kitchen table with small _thumps_.

As Mrs. Weasley sat down, the four partook in her scrumptious foods she had prepared, as the stomachs of Charlie, Hermione, and Ginny nearly hummed in appreciation for its deliciousness. They continued talking about Charlie's years as captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and the many matches he participated in, while Mrs. Weasley occasionally fussed about his and Hermione's work with dragons.

* * *

After lunch was finished, staying true to his word, Charlie and Hermione announced that they were going back to St. Mungo's to check in on both Phillip and Terrance to see how they were coming along.

Apparating back into the hospital, the pair bypassed the Inquiries desk, paying no attention to the plump, blonde witch that was harassing a middle-aged man who had sprouted the ears of a donkey while his skin was of an off-green.

They walked through a set of double doors and down a narrow, tiled corridor lined with portraits of famous healers that have since passed, as Charlie then led Hermione down the passageway her room had been in before.

"I think Terrance is over here," Charlie said quietly, taking Hermione's hand in his as they made their way up to a closed door. They peeked in through the window of the room and saw that Terrance was awake, sitting against the bed's headboard, looking down at something he seemed to be holding in his hand.

"Come on," Charlie continued, "he's up."

The two then walked into Terrance's room where his head turned towards them quickly, as a smile crawled over his face at their appearance.

"Charlie, Hermione…looks like those poachers had one up on us," Terrance stated. Hermione looked down at him and saw that he had scrapes and small cuts all over his face, while his right shoulder was wrapped in a large bandage, as he was wearing the grab of a St. Mungo's patient.

"How'd you guys make out," he asked, taking a quick look at Charlie, before he trained his eyes on Hermione, before returning back to the second-oldest Weasley.

"We're fine," Charlie answered, after shooting over a small glance at Hermione, "more importantly, how are you? You don't look too well."

Terrance laughed deeply, his chest shaking with his own comical relief, as he responded, "Charlie, you and I both know that we've been through worse with our dragons. I'll heal and I'll be good as new soon enough."

"What happened to your shoulder," Hermione queried, looking over at it, as Charlie released her hand.

Terrance also looked at it, as he explained, "I was splinched when I apparated out of that jewelry store back in Woan. It's nothing big. Have you heard anything from Director Mulligan yet? I can only imagine what he's going through right now: a day after he leaves the reserve, this happens…all because of those damn poachers."

Hermione looked over at him, while Charlie intervened, "No one could've known this was going to happen. I mean, when was the last time poachers infiltrated the encampment? It's been years, if I remember correctly."

"We thought that they would stop trying to come, with the Wand Detector back in the Romanian Unitary Magical Republic, and having anti-apparition wards placed over TAP and Woan, but these poachers are relentless," Terrance said, shaking his head in disbelief, "it's like they couldn't stop even if they wanted to."

Charlie nodded his head silently, before he voiced, "Do I even need to ask if you retrieved the egg or not?"

"Sure you can," Terrance replied evenly, "but you should instead save your breath. I was lucky enough that I didn't have a bloody building fall on top of me."

Charlie scoffed good-naturedly, as he crossed his arms over his chest.

At this time, Terrance turned to gaze over at Hermione and said, "I must say though that I'm impressed by you, Hermione."

"Me, why," she questioned, both of her eyebrows raised.

"You're good with your wand," Terrance responded, "and you're fast. Did that skill come to you during that time when you were on the run with Harry and Ron? I remember my parents were fascinated by where you three were when the Daily Prophet listed you guys as missing from Hogwarts."

Hermione blushed slightly, as she said, "Yes and no. I learned different spells and defenses during that time, but all three of us had quite a bit of experience before we left." Hermione's mind drifted back over to their fifth-year when they had established Dumbledore's Army under the tyranny of the Ministry of Magic and Dolores Umbridge, disregarding Education Degree Number Twenty-Four.

"Well there's no doubt you had a lot of experience, then," Terrance supplied, "you're probably better than more than three-quarters of the dragon reserve workers back in Romania."

"I don't know about that," she mumbled, though she felt a ghost of smile start to form over her face.

"Anyway," Charlie then cut in, taking a step closer to Hermione, which did not unnoticed by Terrance, "did the healer say when you can leave?"

"Hopefully soon," Terrance answered, sitting up straighter in his bed, and letting out a heavy sigh, "it would be better though if I was let out at the same time as my healer was."

Charlie and Hermione looked over at each other, Hermione noticing that Charlie had a look of understanding on his face, thought it also seemed that he was trying very hard not to roll his eyes, while Hermione was confused.

As they turned back towards him, Hermione said, "What do you mean that it would be better if you left the same time as your healer?"

Terrance laughed quietly, as two dimples appeared on his cheeks, making him look at least five years younger than he was.

"Let's just say that I would like to get to know my healer a bit better," Terrance explained, "maybe a little more…personally, if you know what I mean."

The realization of Terrance's words then dawned upon Hermione, as she felt her face heat up.

"Oh," she muttered, thinking of nothing else to say.

As if right on cue, a familiar voice from behind Charlie and Hermione said, "Well, Mr. Wriley, it's good to see that you have a pair of visitors."

Hermione looked over and saw Healer Millie stroll into the room with a smile on her face. When she spotted Charlie and Hermione, she exclaimed, "Oh, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, I didn't even recognize the two of you!"

"Believe it or not, you, Healer Millie, are not the first bird to say that to Mr. Weasley," Terrance announced.

While Healer Millie blushed, Charlie shot a cold look over at Terrance who was trying to stifle his laughter with his fist.

Charlie wrapped one of his arms around Hermione's waist and said, "We'll be back Terrance…we're going to check-in on Phillip."

Terrance, however, appeared to not have heard as he was chatting away with Healer Millie, not about any of his injuries, but he was instead asking her what time she got off her shift from St. Mungo's.

As they walked out of his room, Charlie shook his head from side to side, saying, "No matter what type of injury Terrance has, he's always turning on his charm. He's a big flirt, he is."

"Do many 'birds' as Terrance puts it, fall for his charm," Hermione questioned, as they made their way down the hallway, looking in each window they passed for a sign of Phillip.

"Fortunately for him, yes," Charlie said. "I would be surprised if I ever saw the day where Terrance decided to settle down."

"You sound like it isn't possible for him," Hermione noted.

"That's because I don't think that he could it. Terrance has a reputation back in Brasov of being the type of bloke he doesn't settle down; he's not that type of guy to find the perfect witch for him and start a family. Many ladies back there, both magical and non-magical, like that about him. 'No strings attached' I believe is the Muggle saying," Charlie responded.

"Perhaps he just hasn't found the perfect girl yet."

"He thought he did," Charlie stated.

"Thought," Hermione repeated as a question. "Do you mean that this girl that he met before wasn't the right match?"

"Terrance thought she was; he met her back in Wales and told me that he planned to ask her to marry him. He said that I shouldn't make any plans that coming winter because that was when they believed their ceremony was set to take place and that I was going to be his best man."

"What happened," Hermione asked.

Charlie looked over at her, pulling her closer to his side as he did so.

"In Romania, he couldn't stay faithful. The first night back on the reserve, he had a witch spend the night with him in his flat."

This was to Hermione, strike two against Terrance in regards to his morals, or lack thereof, with the opposite sex.

"Anyway, this room looks like Phillip's," Charlie said, stopping in his tracks and nodding his head towards a window, where Hermione looked in, and saw Phillip lying on his back on his bed.

"He doesn't seem to be awake, does he," Hermione asked.

"No, I don't think he is yet," Charlie replied. "He was banged up pretty bad back in Woan, though."

"Charlie," Hermione suddenly said, taking one step away from the window, as Charlie retraced his arm from her waist (though she secretly wished that he didn't), "back at the Burrow, when you said that both Terrance and Phillip were friends of yours, did you mean it?"

"Of course I did," Charlie said back to her.

"No," Hermione exclaimed, placing her hand on one of his arms, "you know what I mean…with Phillip."

Charlie placed his right hand on his left shoulder and seemed to gently massage it while he regarding Hermione's question.

"Um, well, yeah, I guess so," he said after a moment.

"Really?"

"You wanted me to try and be nicer to him, didn't you," he asked, to which she nodded her head. "I'm doing my best, Hermione, with Phillip. It'll take some time after everything that has happened, but I think that it could work out, something along the lines of friendship at least."

Hermione smiled at Charlie's words, and before she knew it, she wrapped her arms around his wide shoulders, taking him by surprise.

Hermione knew that this was a big step for Charlie to take, considering that he had lost one of his best friends due to, which many of the dragon reserve workers blamed on, Phillip. The fact that he was trying to make better of the situation made her happy for him.

However, as these thoughts shifted around in her mind, she then realized her sudden public display of affection to him. While she felt incredibly comfortable in his muscled arms, Hermione didn't think they were at that stage in their friendship (or was it a relationship?) for something as simplistic as a hug, for it could be take for a number of different meanings.

Hermione stiffened as she slowly withdrew her arms off of his shoulders as her face nearly matched that of a tomato's; Charlie wasn't much better…in fact, he fared a bit worse.

Although Charlie had confessed that he did share feelings for Hermione that went beyond the parameters of friendship, he didn't solidify whether or not he wanted to be in a relationship with her; he certainly was about to, until their time on the graveyard shift turned for the worse, wading into a treacherous current that carried them to blood-filled oceans.

"Sorry," Hermione said to him awkwardly, letting her arms rest at her sides, though she was itching to wrap them back around Charlie again.

"No, no don't worry about it," he responded, with a rather embarrassed small smile.

Just then, a deep voice rumbled, "Mr. Weasley."

Both Charlie and Hermione turned at the sound, as Hermione saw a rather tall and thin man walk up to them. She saw that this man was bald, as the top of his head was reflective of the candles that floated near the ceiling of the ward they were standing in, as he was wearing a gray wizards' traveling cloak. He had a thin nose with matching thin lips, while one of his ears was half-missing.

"Director Mulligan," Charlie remarked as he squared his shoulders.

"I just heard what happened," Mulligan said in a tired but deep voice, "and arrived back in London a few minutes ago. How are you?"

"I'm fine," Charlie replied, "just a few bumps and bruises but nothing life-threatening."

"That's good, that's good and how about Mr. Soren and Mr. Wriley?"

"Terrance is doing better, but he splinched his shoulder. Phillip…well, I'm not sure if he has woken up yet." Charlie pointed past the window they were standing by, as Mulligan looked into and gave a mighty sigh, his frame sagging down towards the tiled floor of the passageway, as if a heavy set of weights had been placed unceremoniously on his shoulders. "We just arrived back several minutes ago."

"We," Mulligan asked, gazing over at Charlie with a questioning glance, before his eyes fell on Hermione.

"This is Hermione Granger," Charlie said, "she took a job with our department last week, and Mr. McGill offered her a position with me to oversee the new dragon reserve in Wales."

Director Mulligan stuck out his hand, which Hermione shook, taking note that its surface was rough with blisters, yet his touch was also rather comforting in a way that she couldn't describe.

"It's nice to have you on board with us, Miss Granger," Mulligan said.

"Thank you, it feels good to be working with dragons," she said back.

Mulligan nodded once, his face still grave, as he continued, "You said that Mr. Wriley is awake?"

"Yes," Charlie responded shortly.

"Okay," he commented, "well, unfortunate as it is that Phillip doesn't look like he's going to come to soon, I need to speak with you. Lead the way back to Mr. Wriley's room, if you will."

Charlie nodded, as Hermione felt that there was something that Director Mulligan was yearning to tell them…a situation that was out of control.

The short way back to Terrance's room was silent and rather ominous, as the three didn't speak to one another; the only sound that existed between them was the _clacking_ and _squeaking_ of their shoes upon the floor.

As Hermione walked alongside Charlie, she wanted to reach out and cling to his hand, hoping upon hope that everything was going to be alright, though in her heart, she knew that a new state of affair had arisen, masking her false sense of security that her, Charlie, Terrance, and Phillip escaped what could have been a life-threatening offense against the dragon poachers. However, with all of these confusing thoughts mulling around in her head, she kept her hand at her side.

Entering back into Terrance's room, both Charlie and Hermione stopped short, as they saw that Terrance had one of his arms wrapped around Healer Millie, who was sitting on his lap, as the two of them partook in sucking each other's lips off one another, while their tongues dueled like fiery serpents.

"Ahem," Director Mulligan ushered loudly, startling Hermione and causing Terrance and Healer Mille to spring apart. "Are we interrupting something, Mr. Wriley?"

"Director Mulligan! No, no, o-of course not," Terrance exclaimed, as the tips of his ears grew red, while Healer Mille was blushing furiously; a second later, she dashed out of the room, her hair blazing behind her.

Director Mulligan closed the door on her exit, while both Hermione and Charlie walked further into the room, the latter of whom was shaking his head in a teasing manner at Terrance, who in turn, glared back.

"Take a seat you two," Director Mulligan said, waving his wand and causing two chairs to appear, one on each side of Terrance's bed, as Hermione sat in hers, feeling far away from Charlie.

"When did you get back, sir," Terrance asked, though his voice quavered at his embarrassment of having his boss walk in upon a lip-lock session of his.

"Several minutes ago, but keep quiet Mr. Wriley, I have rather urgent news to discuss," Mulligan said in a commanding tone of voice. "I received a patronus whilst in Canada, saying that dragon poachers had infiltrated our reserve. Never minding at this moment how they came onto the encampment, I should let you down easy: Anthony, Claude, and Marcus are all dead."

Shock rushed through Hermione, as she remembered seeing the three workers after she and Charlie helped Phillip back into the Center of Directions tent. They were on the graveyard shift in the Tepid and Primitive pens. She thought about how two of them had been blasted backward while the other was hit with a white jet of light.

"Dead," whispered Terrance in incredulity.

"Quiet, Mr. Wriley, I haven't finished yet. Also, after running through a quick inventory back in Romania earlier this morning conducted right before I came here, three dragon eggs were stolen: one from a Chinese Fireball, another from a Hungarian Horntail, and the last from a Hebridean Black."

Hermione looked over at Charlie, who looked over at Terrance, who looked back at Hermione. She remembered that Phillip told her and Charlie that one of the dragon poachers had an egg, though he didn't say anything about two other eggs; perhaps Phillip didn't see them.

"There is, however, a more pressing matter at hand," Mulligan said, making all three look back at him. "One of our Romanian Longhorn's has escaped. The reason I'm telling you this is because I need you to go back and help bring it back to the reserve. However, seeing that you, Mr. Wriley, is indisposed of at the moment, that leaves you, Mr. Weasley, to go after it. You two are the best workers that the reserve has and both of you has a great record of bringing back rogue dragons. We need to bring the dragon back as fast as possible as I'm afraid the other reserve workers don't have the experience that you do."

"Of course," Charlie said, nodding his head.

"The reserve workers are scouting out its position right now as we speak. They believe the Romanian Longhorn is in the Castle of Stone. You know, Mr. Weasley, as well as I that that is a very treacherous area for a dragon to be in," Mulligan said deeply.

Terrance looked quickly over at Charlie, before he protested, "Director Mulligan, I really think that I'm entirely capable of going after the Romanian Longhorn. I don't feel that bad at all, actually, and Charlie and I make a great team."

"I know you are capable, Terrance," Mulligan said coolly, "but if my mind serves me correctly, you are also capable of snogging your healer quite senseless. Maybe she can prescribe to you a note that will allow you to leave St. Mungo's in search of the Romanian Longhorn."

Terrance seemed to sink back against his pillows at Mulligan's words, his face bursting into all different shades of red.

"Sir," Charlie intervened, "I'm willing to go back but I believe that Hermione should accompany me. She helped us quite a bit with the dragon poachers in Woan and I know that she will be more of an asset in helping me and the other workers in bringing back the Romanian Longhorn."

Director Mulligan steered his dark green-eyed gaze over to her, as she stood to her feet and said with fierce determination, "I want to go back. I can help."

"Understand this, Miss Granger: bringing a dragon back to the encampment is a very dangerous mission. The rescue team can't have any 'heroics' on display from anyone. You will be part of a team, and a team works together."

"I understand," Hermione stated firmly, "I know how to work together."

Director Mulligan regarded her for a long, quiet moment, not saying a word. Finally, with a slight nod of his head, he responded, "Very well, then."

Digging into one of his pockets of his wizards' traveling robes, he took out a blue men's comb. Seeing it, Hermione distinctly remembered that Mr. McGill, the head of the department, liked to assign different colored men's combs to the reserve workers as a portkey back to Romania.

"Listen, we don't have a lot of time," Mulligan warned. "Minister Shacklebolt informed me that the Romanian Minister is arriving tomorrow morning where you will all be questioned about what happened with the dragon poachers. I fear though that this will all be more of a political ploy than a hearing for reason."

At this, Charlie and Hermione traded dark glances, as Charlie had cautioned Hermione about this earlier that very morning.

"Now gather around, gather around – not you Mr. Wriley! – this portkey is set to leave in just under a minute," Mulligan said in a rushed manner. "A finger will do."

Charlie and Hermione placed their index finger upon the comb that was lying on the palm of one of Mulligan's hands.

Charlie looked over at Hermione and nodded his head at her, while she gave him a quick smile. He then looked over at Terrance. Hermione repeated his action to see that Terrance had a sour look upon his face over the fact that he was barred to go with them back to Romania. Hermione then saw that a small piece of parchment was lying beside Terrance's bed.

However, before she could get a quick look at it, she felt a hooking sensation around her navel, as she, Charlie, and Director Mulligan were pulled out of St. Mungo's as they headed back to Romania, where a dragon was on the loose.


	13. The Rogue Dragon

Hello all! Well, here is "Part 2" to Chapter 12, that was split in half due to its overlong length. Chapter 14 will be posted either late Sunday night or early Monday morning. Thanks for reading.

* * *

Chapter 13: The Rogue Dragon

Charlie, Hermione, and Director Mulligan appeared directly onto the dragon encampment, as thick, black clouds rolled over the sky, while a low rumble was heard off in the distance.

"Looks like the weather won't be on our side today," Mulligan noted grimly, looking up above, as if he was expecting their hunt for the Romanian Longhorn to not go well. "Come on, the workers that are going on the search are meeting in the Center of Directions."

As Charlie and Hermione followed the reserve director up to the pavilion, Hermione asked in a low voice so not to be overheard, "I thought that we couldn't take a portkey onto the dragon reserve?"

Charlie looked down at her, as he said, "I don't think I ever said that, did I? Besides, since Mulligan is the director of the entire camp, Mr. McGill pretty much gives him whatever he needs in order for the workings of the dragon reserve to run smoothly. In times like this, it's useful, don't you think?"

Hermione nodded her head at him in agreement, as they chased behind Mulligan, who then waved his wand, causing the Center of Directions flap to open for the new entrants to step into.

Walking inside, Hermione sensed a low chorale of deep voices, grumbling about, an air of intensity cackling between them.

"Any new news gentlemen," Mulligan roared out, reminding Hermione much of a lion taking command of its pride, as Charlie and Hermione stepped up to the large, bulky table that served as a map of the entire encampment, depicting small images of dragons, showing where each one was.

As fellow workers, nearly a dozen by Hermione's quick count, nodded to Charlie in silence as a way of greeting, Hermione noticed that a bright red 'X' had been marked over an empty coop located in the 'Alarm' pen, it being the enclosure of the Romanian Longhorn.

"No," one of the workers said, shaking his head from side to side, "but we still think that the dragon is somewhere in the Castle of Stone. It'll be a bloody challenge to get it out of there, I tell you."

"Yeah, well we're going to get it out and back here, one way or another," Mulligan replied, feasting his eyes down upon the map. "No other dragons on the loose, is that correct?"

"That's right…the Romanian Longhorn is the only one," the same worker replied.

Mulligan nodded his head before he said, "Here's what we're going to do: since the Castle of Stone lies just beyond the Carpathian Mountains, we're going to approach the area through it and everyone is going to be divided in pairs."

"Hang on a moment," a young-looking worker spoke out, "we can't all approach the Castle of Stone from one vantage point. The Romanian Longhorn would just escape out one of the other sides that no one is guarding."

"Except that there will be guards, Mr. Thompson," Mulligan responded roughly, as if he was annoyed at being interrupted, "we are all going to need to surround the Castle of Stone."

"But how will we know when we can move in and rescue the dragon," Thompson asked again. "It's not like all of the pairs are going to know what the others are doing; the Castle of Stone is a massive area to cover."

Without thinking, Hermione suddenly voiced, "The Protean Charm."

All heads and eyes turned towards her in silence, making her cheeks flash a bright pink.

"Well…it was just at thought," Hermione piped up, her voice barely above a whisper, when no one said anything further.

"Hang on a second," Charlie said, making Hermione look at him, "that could work. We could use the Protean Charm to communicate to one another around the Castle of Stone, just so all of the pairs know the positions and conditions everyone else is in."

"That's a good idea and all," the first worker that addressed Mulligan before relented, "but there's one problem with it: the Protean Charm reflects the message of the master object. If we were to use small pebbles, for example, only the initiated pebble would be able to make any form of communication to the other pebbles linked by the Protean Charm."

"The charm could be modified, though," Hermione voiced, small bouts of confidence surging through her, "all we have to do is to make each object the initiator of the charm; therefore, each one will act as its own master."

"You're sure that this can be done," Mulligan questioned, his eyes trained on Hermione with a fierce gaze.

"I'm positive," she said back.

"Very well, then, we'll make use of the Protean Charm."

"What objects are we going to use," another worker inquired.

"We could take on Jay's suggestion and use small pebbles," Thompson supplied, "they'll be lightweight and all."

"That won't be viable," Mulligan countered, "we need something that we can wear around our necks or our wrists. Our wands are going to need our hands as much as possible, and we can't have any obstruction, like that of a small pebble, entangle with it."

"How about leather cuffs," Charlie reasoned. "We could easily wear them around our wrists, and if I remember the Protean Charm correctly, whenever a message is sent out, all of the objects that are linked together by the spells burns, notifying the recipients that a new note has appeared."

Mulligan nodded in acceptance, just as another low growl of thunder was heard from outside.

"Any objections to Mr. Weasley's suggestion of leather cuffs," Mulligan queried, though by the sound of his voice, he was warning his employees not to make such a demurrer.

When no one said anything, Mulligan waved his wand as just under a dozen thick, brown leather cuffs appeared on top of the map of the encampment, each one large enough for a small message to be had on its surface.

"Miss Granger, since you seem so apt with this particular charm, would you do the honors," Mulligan asked, nodding his head towards the small pile of leather cuffs before him.

"Of course," Hermione said, a bit taken aback, yet also pleased, at the director's support of her magical aptitude.

She then stepped around Charlie as she took the topmost leather cuff in her hand, muttered an incantation, and waved her wand in a complicated pattern, smiling when the cuff burned against the palm of her hand.

"Now, while Miss Granger gets that done for us, we need to map out where each pair is going to be located around the Castle of Stone," Mulligan directed, "we can't all be acting like a bunch of buffoons whilst over there, or the Romanian Longhorn will roast us like sleeping ghouls."

As Mulligan barked out his orders, Hermione continued to work on each leather cuff, keenly aware that Charlie's eyes kept darting over to her from time to time, as if he was checking on her progress with use of the Protean Charm.

"Now, seeing as we need to rescue the Romanian Longhorn as soon as possible, we're going to be using broomsticks to get to the Castle of Stone," Mulligan continued, "but since our broomstick supply is running rather low, there'll be two to a broom. Any questions?"

When the workers remained quiet, Mulligan nodded his head once, then turned to Hermione and asked, "How are the leather cuffs coming along, Miss Granger?"

"I'm just about finished," Hermione proclaimed, picking up the final one. After several silent seconds, she announced, "There, I'm finished."

"Excellent," Mulligan said, as he flung his wand at the leather cuffs as they all flew over to the workers gathered around.

Each caught it in his hand as they all started to fasten it around their wrists.

"Now, before we go," Mulligan started to say, "how about we all test our cuffs just to make sure they all work with each other."

The ten workers all looked down at their cuffs as instantly, a foray of messages, appearing in small, bright yellow letters appeared on the surface of Hermione's cuff.

Notes of, ' _High there!_ ', ' _Rescue Mission: The Rogue Dragon_ ', and ' _I hate leather…why couldn't it have been cotton?_ ' all appeared in quick succession before disappearing on the cuff.

"Good thinking, Miss Granger," Mulligan noted quietly to her, before he turned back to the group at hand, "also, it would be helpful if, after each note, the addressees would put their initials or their first names, just to limit confusion of errors. Understood?"

There was low murmur of agreement as Mulligan turned towards a corner, waving his wand again as he did so. Five brooms soared out of the corner he directed his wand towards, as they made their way over to five workers; Charlie took hold of one of the brooms in his hand.

"I think we're all set then," Mulligan finalized, taking one last look at the map of the dragon encampment, his eyes fixated on the glowing red 'X'. "I wish everyone 'good luck' as this marks the first time we are going to rescue a dragon from the Castle of Stone. Let's go then!"

Charlie turned towards Hermione and asked, "So, are you ready to go?"

Hermione nodded her head, as she replied, "I am; I'll be fine with Director Mulligan as my partner."

"What," Charlie exclaimed, as his face fell.

Hermione laughed quietly, stifling her hilarity with one of her hands, before she responded, "I'm just kidding, Charlie."

A small smile broke out over his face, as he said, "You know, I believe your comedic timing could use some more work. After all, we're about to embark on a dangerous mission, yet you find the time to crack a joke."

"Sorry," Hermione directed, though she knew that Charlie was teasing her, "I couldn't help it."

"I'll help you later, then," Charlie told her softly, before they walked out of the Center of Directions, and gathered with the rest of the other paired workers in front of the TAP entrance.

Outside of the tent, Hermione noticed that strong wind had picked up, it marking the beginnings of a powerful early-afternoon storm. The trees surrounding the entrance to the separate enclaves creaked ominously, groaning under the stress the wind brought, as its branches collided with one another, while a mess of leaves were ripped from its origin, bustling away, forever forgotten. The sky above had turned dark, as black clouds hovered close by, slowly stretching its way to cover what little light was left over from the blotted rays of the sun, as a chill snaked its way up Hermione's spine, climbing up her vertebrae like the rungs of a ladder.

"Looks like we'll be dealing with a monster storm," Mulligan nearly yelled, as a bright flash of lightning and a _boom_ of thunder struck nearby. "We'll have to fly under the cover of the trees then," he continued on, "we wouldn't want any accidents with the lightning. Come on, then, we wasted enough time already!"

With that, Mulligan, paired together with a fellow worker saddled behind him on the broomstick, took off.

As the other pairs began to follow suit, Charlie turned to Hermione and said, "Let's go, then."

She nodded, her flair of jokes long past now, as she climbed aboard the broomstick Charlie had already mounted, as she wrapped her arms around his middle tightly.

Hermione thought about how she indeed hated flying, yet this was the second time she was flying on a broomstick in one day; the irony of the situation was not lost on her.

Suddenly, with a loud _whoosh_ , Charlie and Hermione were up in the air, just as a loud crash of thunder boomed around them, making Hermione cower behind Charlie's back.

Charlie and Hermione flew along with the four other broomsticks over the enclaves, as she noticed that some of the dragons watched the flying procession with their eyes; Hermione thought that to the bigger dragons, they merely resembled gnats, moving in tune with the atmosphere of the approaching storm.

Hermione heard Charlie grunt a few times, as she saw that he was having a hard time controlling his broomstick due the powerful sheets of wind that continually blasted through the air, rocking them to and fro.

Looking to her left, Hermione nearly witnessed a mid-air broomstick collision, as the supremacy of the wind steered two groups close together; luckily, one broomstick performed a coil at the last second, as it twisted away from what would have been a devastating crash.

As the wind continued to gather in strength, Hermione chanced a quick glance over Charlie's shoulder and saw a bright flash of lightning near in the distance, as it was followed seconds later but a powerful roar of thunder, reverberating through her entire body, while several of the dragons underneath them emitted low roars.

"Charlie," Hermione called out, as the wind sounded light a freight train shrilling against their eardrums, "are the dragons going to be okay?"

He half turned his head over his shoulder as he replied, "Don't worry about them, Hermione. They'll be fully protected by the Restriction Charm each pen has over it."

She nodded her head in understanding as she then noticed that they were flying nearer towards the trees that surrounded the encampment where she and Charlie had found Phillip earlier that very morning, bound to a tree by barbed wire.

"We're almost under cover," Charlie yelled back to Hermione, "just a few more feet."

However, just then, a white-hot band of lightning struck the ground mere yards away from where they were flying. The power was so great that Charlie lost control of the broomstick as Hermione shrieked about. The two tumbled through the shelter of the tall trees, the broomstick out of control as it darted around deeper into the forest, while a pounding bellow of thunder sounded off. The broomstick Charlie and Hermione had been riding upon crashed into one tree, before it jerked upwards and flew through a thick set of branches and leaves of a neighboring tree, as it then plummeted downwards, colliding with solid bark, while a loud _crack_ was heard, followed by a small _POP_.

The pair fell hard upon the ground, as Hermione gasped for breath. She lay on her back, wheezing, strangling for air, as she felt as if a large troll had collapsed on top of her. She blinked several times, lying still upon the forest floor, as the trees overhead formed a thick canopy, effectively blocking the storm that was brewing with intensity overhead. It was dark within the forest, though it wasn't a total blackout.

"Hermione," croaked Charlie from nearby.

Hermione slowly perked up on her elbows, as she coughed deeply several times.

"Charlie," she managed to call out afterwards, though her voice sounded faraway.

She turned her head and saw that he had one of his hands firmly planted into the ground, as if he was positioning himself to stand to his feet, as he currently lying on his side.

"You okay," he questioned, as his face grimaced in a bout of pain.

She nodded, saying, "Yeah, yeah, I think I'm fine. How about you?"

"I'll live," he groaned, before he mustered his remaining strength and hauled himself to his feet. Rubbing his side, he made his way over to Hermione. He bent down and grabbed her hands in his.

"I'm going to help you up, now, if that's okay," he said to her.

She nodded again as he lifted her on her feet; she swayed precariously for a moment, while Charlie kept his hands on her waist, steadying her.

"I feel better," she remarked after a moment, as she looked over at Charlie and saw that he had several scratches coating his face, though nothing looked too serious. "Do you know what happened to our broomstick?"

"Let me see," Charlie said, his face contorted in discomfort, while he took out his wand and said, " _LUMOS_."

Instantly, his wand tip ignited with a bright white light. He raised his wand high into the air, giving he and Hermione a wide berth from which to search for their broomstick.

"Here's one piece," Hermione commented, picking up the tail end of their broomstick, "and there's another," she said, pointing to a low bush just behind Charlie. He turned and retrieved it.

"Ah, and here's the last piece," Charlie commented, picking up the third and final broomstick piece. "Here, put in on the ground and I'll repair it."

She did as she was told before she then said, "I'll send a message on our cuffs just to let everyone know we're a bit behind."

"Good thinking," Charlie told her, as he sank onto his knees on the ground, the three broken broomstick pieces before him.

Hermione waved her wand at the leather cuff she wore on her wrist, as a message printed in small, bright yellow letters appeared: ' _Crashed. Repairing broomstick. Will join soon. – CW._ ' Hermione decided to put down Charlie initials as she didn't think that the other workers would recognize her own name.

She then directed her attention back on Charlie, flicking her own wand and muttering, " _LUMOS_ ," to give him more light.

"Thanks," he said to her softly, as he waved his wand at the broken segments of wood and said, " _REPARO!_ " The broomstick mended itself back into one piece.

"There," Charlie announced, as he looked up at Hermione, who was still standing on her feet, "good as new."

"Should we get going then?"

Charlie nodded, as he started to say, "Yeah, let me just -," however, he then stopped suddenly, as his attention was alerted elsewhere.

Hermione looked around at the darkness of the surrounding trees pressing in on them and their little spheres of light, trying to spot what had distracted Charlie.

"What is it," she then questioned, seeing nothing out of place.

"There's footsteps," he whispered, making Hermione whip her head over to him. "Just there." He pointed in front of him several paces with his ignited wand, and sure enough, a trail of footsteps was implanted upon the dirt of the forest floor, seeming to have stopped mere feet away from where she and Charlie were at that precise moment.

Hermione's heart began to beat out of time, as the idea that somebody else was nearby them, drummed up her anxiety, making her look around again, scanning their immediate area with potency.

Seeming to sense her apprehension, Charlie stood to his feet, broomstick and lit wand in one hand, while his other arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him in a intensely protective gesture.

"We should leave, Charlie," Hermione told him softly.

"Hang on," he noted, making Hermione turn to look up at him; as she did so, it seemed as if he was thinking upon something. "I remember hearing a popping noise, right around the time we crashed; it sounded like someone had apparated."

Hermione quickly thought back but couldn't remember hearing any such noise; in reality, their broomstick accident had happened so fast that Hermione didn't have time to register anything else that happened around her.

"I want to check something out really quick," Charlie told her softly, as he retracted his arm from around her and started to cautiously walk towards the trail of footsteps.

"Charlie," Hermione whispered feverishly, but he either ignored her or didn't hear her (she thought it was the former), as he lowered his wand a bit, so as to not draw too much attention to himself in case there was someone, or other people, nearby.

Hermione, not wanting Charlie to venture off by himself, followed him, as she too dropped her wand, as she heard a muffled rumble of thunder overheard.

Both of them crept forward, thoughts of the Romanian Longhorn in the back of their minds, as Charlie danced his way around a thick tree, before he stopped.

"Do you see anything," Hermione whispered over to him, as she tried to look around his frame.

"It looks like there's some sort of house," he noted in astonishment, "just over there."

Hermione looked over to where his gaze was at as she then saw what looked like a small, shabby hut, situated beyond two trees that acted as a make-shift entryway to the home's property.

"What is a house doing in the middle of the forest," Hermione questioned, completely baffled at the sight of it.

"I have no idea," Charlie said back to her, "I've never seen anything like this before."

"Should we let the others know?"

"We could but I don't exactly know where we are. We crashed, flew around, and ended up somewhere in the forest. I don't think we could really pinpoint an exact location for anyone else to find us," Charlie reckoned. "And besides, the others are probably nearby the Castle of Stone. They wouldn't come back for us unless we were seriously injured."

Hermione knew he was right as she shrugged her shoulders, as they both resumed looking over at the small house.

"It seems like it's empty," Charlie said after several quiet seconds. "I think we should check it out."

"Charlie," Hermione whispered harshly, "you don't know who could be inside. Just because it seems empty doesn't mean it is!"

"Hermione, this house isn't even supposed to be here as we are still technically on the reserve. Dragon poachers could use this place as some sort of hideout. Maybe that's how they got in earlier this morning! For all we know, there could a fireplace inside there that's connected to the Floo Network. I have to see what's inside," Charlie replied, and without waiting for an answer, he started to make his way towards the darkened home.

Hermione, knowing that her perusal to stop Charlie would fall on deaf ears, followed him, as her heart continued to hammer against her chest.

Another roll of thunder was heard as she and Charlie stepped between the two trees the small house was situated behind, the sound of crunching leaves reaching their ears. Hermione looked past the home but only spotted pitch blackness. It was as if this very home stood at the edge of time, on the brink of reason, as what was hidden past it was everything made of nothing, and nothing that came from everything. It looked like the world ended and there was not one more speck of dust to be discovered in the darkness; not even wand-light could penetrate its fortifications. The black curtain had been drawn; past it would be accepting there would be no return.

The pair stepped over a large entanglement of solid roots that looked as if she and Charlie had set foot in a nest of vipers. Hermione snapped a lone twig in half, its sound echoing around them.

As they drew closer and closer to the house, the scenery they were in grew darker, like the sun had decided to sink over the horizon early, while the temperature steadily trickled downward.

Hermione's breathing became deeper, as much of the pain she had endured when her and Charlie's broomstick crashed earlier had already subsided.

"I don't think anyone's in there," Charlie commented back to her softly, holding his ignited wand up to his shoulder, as its light reflected off of the walls of the home. Hermione looked over and saw that the house appeared to be very small – more of hut than anything – as its walls were covered in a blanket of moss, while its two shabby front windows were coated in layers of dust. The roof of the home was made up of circular tiles that had long vines snaking out from in between each one, almost as if the forest was going to swallow the entire structure whole ever so slowly.

Charlie walked forward as he carefully peeked into one of the windows, holding his wand at bay.

"Can't see anything," before he said, " _TERGEO!_ " Instantly, the glass pane was rid of all of its grime, as both she and Charlie peered inside the home.

From what Hermione could make out, the inside of the home looked just as small as the outside: there were three bare walls, as the fourth hosted a small fireplace with no mantle, a rickety desk with a sheet of parchment atop it sat in the middle of the home with an uncomfortable-looking chair nearby, as a skinny cot polished off the furnishings.

"There," Charlie said, pointing over to the small fireplace, "whosever home this is, is probably arriving by the Floo Network."

Charlie sighed as he tore himself away from the window and walked up to the wooden front door. He tried to open it but it was locked.

" _ALOHOMORA_ ," he said softly, as a _clicking_ sound was heard. "I'm just going to take a quick look around," he told Hermione, before he pushed open the door, emitting loud creaking sounds, and entered inside, while she followed.

The shack reeked of a foul smell, causing Hermione to clasp her wand-free hand over her nose.

The pair walked over to the fireplace and saw that a small bag rested beside it. Charlie bent down, picked it up, and opened it.

"Floo powder," he said, looking over at Hermione, who had a growing sense that they were trespassing behind enemy lines infiltrate her.

The pair then made their way over to the desk and saw that the lone piece of parchment that was sitting on it had its right corner missing, as if it had been torn off.

Charlie picked the parchment up in his hands and shone his wand light over it, as he and Hermione quickly looked over its contents.

"It looks like a random quill order, or something," Charlie said, his voice masking confusion. "What on earth is something like this doing here?"

"I don't know," Hermione answered, feeling her brows pull together. From what she could make out, the parchment had nothing about dragons or any other magical beast on it.

"This is something strange," Charlie continued, lightly shaking his head from side to side several times. "Do you see anything else around?"

At his question, the two quickly scoured the small home, looking for any other sign of what type of habitation they had come across, yet nothing else was found.

"I think that's the only thing in here," Hermione said, after a long minute.

"Weird," Charlie commented.

Just then, Hermione felt her wrist burn. She looked down at it, seeing out of the corner of her eye that Charlie felt the same for he mirrored her actions. Her leather cuff had a new message across it that read, ' _CW, you ok? At Castle of Stone, reply immediately. – DM'_

"Does 'DM' stand for Director Mulligan," Hermione questioned, looking up at Charlie.

"Yeah," he replied, as he folded up the parchment and stuck it the back pocket of his jeans. "Come on, let's go." Grabbing her hand in his, the two exited the small shack where they both mounted on their newly-fixed broomstick. "Can you send back a message, telling them we're on our way," Charlie asked to her.

"I'll do it right now," Hermione responded, and sent a message, reading, ' _On our way now. – CW'_

"Hold tight, Hermione, I need to fly above the trees to see where we are," Charlie instructed next, as she then clung to his middle in a tight embrace.

The broomstick then zoomed upwards, as Hermione saw that a heavy amount of blockage of the trees' numerous branches was above them. Pointing her wand, she said, " _REDUCTO!_ " The branches then exploded with a _whoosh_ , showering them with tiny small twigs and leaves.

Charlie maneuvered the broomstick to fly through the hole Hermione had just created. After he did so, Hermione suddenly felt wet; that was when she noticed that it was raining heavy. Looking up at the sky, she saw that it had turned into total darkness, while the wind and rain continued to gather speed and strength.

Charlie looked around, turning his head left and right, before he scoffed.

"What is it," Hermione called out, the heavy raindrops causing a loud commotion, as one of her hands now resting on his right shoulder.

"I'm not entirely sure where we are," he yelled back to be heard, "I can't see anything in this rain!"

As he squinted his eyes, trying to locate their position, a theory suddenly came to Hermione.

"Wait…I have an idea," Hermione exclaimed, making Charlie looked over his shoulder at her. "Which direction is the Castle of Stone located?"

"Well the entrance to TAP faces north, and the Castle of Stone lies just before the edge of the Carpathian Mountains," he called back to her, a puzzled expression over his face.

Hermione nodded in understanding before she took her wand and laid it in the palm of her hand. She then said, "Point Me!"

Hermione's wand then spun around in circular motions at a rapid pace, becoming nothing more than a mere blur. It then abruptly stopped, as it pointed to Hermione's right.

"Okay, that way is north," Hermione shouted over the pounding rain and crashing thunder, pointing in the same direction her wand was facing.

"Wait! How did you -,"

"Never mind now," Hermione cut him off, "we have to help the others!"

Charlie looked for a moment that he was going to refute her suggestion, before he nodded his head, and took off, the broomstick racing off to their right and northward.

Hermione had grown cold, as the relentless rain soaked through her clothes, as Charlie had decided to ignore the warnings Director Mulligan gave out earlier about the lightning, as they had lost precious time in rescuing the Romanian Longhorn.

Hermione's wrist burned again as she saw that a flurry of yellow messages was flashing onto the surface of her leather cuff.

' _On the north side. – Thompson_ '

' _Eastward. – DM'_

' _Secured the west border. – Jay_ '

' _Look for dragon but don't go after it yet. – DM_ '

Hermione pointed her wand at the leather cuff and spun the following message, ' _Arriving from the south. – CW_ '

Charlie looked down at his own cuff before he looked over his shoulder and shot a grin at Hermione, who smiled back in return.

"We're almost there," he called out to her, as the whistle of the wind shrieked against them, making Hermione's soaked wild mane fly about behind her, while Charlie's short red hair was plastered against his head.

They flew on for several more minutes, closer to the Castle of Stone, yet the rain continued to grow heavier, the wind picked up more speed, and the thunder and lightning became fiercer.

Hermione ducked her head behind Charlie, resting the side of her face against his back, all the while her arms were wrapped tightly around his middle. She was shivering, but she was struggling to find any body heat emitting from him, for he was shaking a bit also, though far less than she was.

"There it is," Charlie exclaimed, pointing his finger up ahead of him.

Hermione looked over his shoulder and saw towering rock figures shooting up towards the sky.

"That's the Castle of Stone," Hermione questioned loudly.

"Yeah," he said back to her, "can you send another message that we're here?"

She nodded as she waved her wand at her leather cuff again, as a new note appeared: ' _Arrived from south. – CW_ '

Charlie then entered into the Castle of Stone and hovered in mid-air. Hermione fixated her gaze around her, as she saw what seemed like hundreds of stone figures that thundered into the black, stormy sky. The jagged and sharp structures stood at least five-hundred feet, the tops disappearing into a blinding white mist. The ground of the Castle of Stone was also made of rock, its rough, uneven surface gleaming with the numerous flashes of lightning that streaked across the sky like pulsating veins, as it was wet with splattered rain. If possible, the air here was even colder to Hermione than flying over the Carpathian Mountains was. The wind still kicked in around them, making the broom sway with its beat.

Hermione's wrist burned as she looked down at her leather band (as did Charlie) and saw the message, ' _Dragon located southwest corner; proceed with caution. – Jay_ '

Charlie nodded his head as he urged the broomstick towards the west, flying deeper into the Castle of Stone, the rock formations now enveloping them in its vastness. It seemed to Hermione that the Castle of Stone ran on forever, as there seemed to be no end in sight.

After they made their way through a thick bout of mist, Hermione noticed four other broomsticks had already arrived and were floating in the air.

"There it is, Hermione, look," Charlie whispered back to her, pointing his finger. "Do you see it?"

Hermione looked to where Charlie directed at, as her eyes ran over shimmering dark green scales: the body of the dragon. She saw that the Romanian Longhorn had two, long golden horns fixated on its head, both as sharp as swords, ready to pierce whatever stood in its way.

The dragon seemed to sense it had company, for a low growling sound was heard; it was as if the Romanian Longhorn was warning the workers not to approach it.

' _Let's move in. – DM_ '

"Hold on, Hermione; it looks like this dragon is going to put up a fight," Charlie whispered back to her, though she barely heard him over the pounding rain.

They flew closer and closer to the bulky dragon, its green scales seeming to swim under the rain drops that slid off of its body, pooling at its underbelly.

"Charlie, how are we going to catch the dragon," Hermione asked.

"We have a spell that puts it to sleep to incapacitate it before we move it back to the reserve," he answered. "The only problem is is that spell needs to be performed directly in front of the dragon's eyes."

Hermione nodded, wondering how on earth they were going to pull that off, especially being that she sensed the Romanian Longhorn was not going to play nicely.

Suddenly, two broomsticks dived down towards the dragon, firing a flurry of spells over towards its underside. The Romanian Longhorn swiftly stood to its feet and swung its massive tail, emitting an ear-splitting _ROAR_. The two pairs veered off course, while Charlie maneuvered his broomstick to fly down towards the beast.

The Romanian Longhorn tracked their movement, its beady yellow eyes fixated upon them. Just as Charlie raised his wand, however, the dragon opened its wide mouth, as Hermione saw its sharp, dagger-like teeth, before it puffed a small fireball. Charlie easily moved around it, as the four other broomsticks flew overhead, under a flash of lightning and a long roll of booming thunder.

Hermione saw thick ropes dart out of the wands from the other pairs, trying to tether the dragon down upon the rock crevices below.

The beast roared again under its binding, as it whipped its head around and shot a clear path of flame at two of the broomsticks. They barely dodged it, as the fire blasted into one of the towering rock structures.

The Romanian Longhorn was now trying to spread its wings, though this was difficult for it being that one had already been tied down.

Charlie flew over to its other beating wing, Hermione clinging tightly to him, just as the dragon moved forward and snapped at their broomstick, missing it by inches. Growing agitated, the Romanian Longhorn let loose a massive fireball at them.

"Charlie watch out," Hermione shrieked.

He grunted and steered the broomstick off to the right, nearly colliding with one of the stone's formations.

The Romanian Longhorn then whipped its tail which smashed together violently with a fellow broomstick, as a loud _cracking_ sound was heard.

Hermione gasped as two other broomsticks converged towards the falling bodies, effectively catching them before they fell what would have surely been to their death.

The workers again started shooting a flurry of curses over at the dragon, as the beast continued to _ROAR_ with body-shaking shrieks. It stretched one of its vast wings to its full length, knocking over one rock structure, crumbling it into a heap of smoke and ruin, making the ground quake.

The Romanian Longhorn then refocused its efforts on Charlie and Hermione as it shot out a ball of flame towards them. Charlie flew off, before he began circling the dragon's head, making it snarl viciously as it followed its trajectory. At the same time, taking advantage of the distraction, the other handlers were securing its other wing, tying it down upon the sharp floors of the stones below.

The rain continued to fall around them, sliding off of the slanting rocks, forming rivers that ran along its base upon the ground, as lightning and thunder crashed together, while the wind continued to kick into higher gears, making the job of catching the dragon much more difficult for those involved.

After the dragon snatched at them again, Charlie shot jinx after jinx at the beast, while Hermione joined in, and yet, every curse they threw at it just bounced off of its thick hide, and ricocheted back into the other towering stone structures surrounding them.

Hermione's wrist burned, as she looked down at her leather cuff.

"What does it say," Charlie asked with a shout back to her, as he was still busy dodging the Romanian Longhorn's attempts to either burn them alive or to gore them with its long, golden horns.

Hermione looked down and read out loudly to Charlie, "Director Mulligan says that both of its wings are secured!"

"Excellent," Charlie remarked, as he flew upwards above the beast and out of sight, while Hermione noticed that the remaining broomsticks and their riders were making their way towards them. The dragon was trying with all of its might to break free of its restraints that was currently keeping it tied to the rough ground.

Once huddled together in the air, Mulligan yelled out, "Okay, gentlemen and gentlewoman, you know the drill! Thompson, Jay, you distract the dragon, while Charlie and I will daze it! Also, beware of its spitfire! I'm positive this beauty would like nothing more than to feast upon our own flesh after we disturbed it from its afternoon slumber. Come on, then!"

The reserve workers took their positions, as both Thompson and Jay started to encircle the head of the dragon with both of their broomsticks, each flying in the opposite direction of one another.

As the Romanian Longhorn was tracking both Thompson and Jay, Charlie and Mulligan inched forward on their broomsticks. After another rotation of the two dragon handlers, both Charlie and Mulligan waved their wands in an abnormal pattern, as a bright pink light started to flash from their wands.

Instantly, the dragon was drawn to the blinking glow, its yellow eyes transfixed on it. Thompson and Jay had stopped their flight, as Hermione noticed that the Romanian Longhorn slowly but surely began to sway, as if it was dizzy.

Not once did Charlie or Mulligan lower his wand or look away from the dragon, as its eyes began to droop. The lightning and thunder all but seemed like a distant memory, as though it continued to wreak havoc upon the sky above, while the wind and rain continued to nurture in strength, there was something so enchanting about the twinkling pink light. While it ensnared the Romanian Longhorn completely, it was clear that its effects expanded to human beings as well, though far less potent.

The beast, having no defense against this tactical move brought on by the dragon handlers, collapsed, its massive body crashing down upon the floor of rock below it.

Charlie and Mulligan both lowered their wands, as the pink light dissipated into nothingness.

"Well," Mulligan started, "that was something -,"

However, Director Mulligan never got to finish his statement for at that very moment, the broomstick he and another worker was riding upon exploded, sending small splinters of wood flying about.

Acting on instinct, Hermione pointed her wand at the pair and yelled out, " _WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!_ "

Mulligan and the fellow worker stopped in midair, their bodies floating on nothing, as they both had been knocked out from the blast.

"Charlie, hurry over to them! I can't keep them up for long," Hermione yelled.

Charlie followed Hermione's orders, as he flew over to them, as they both helped each one onto their broomstick, it now weighing down because of the added weight.

"I thought that spell didn't work on human beings," Charlie called back to her, with both Mulligan and the reserve worker now between them.

"It doesn't," Hermione said quickly over to him, "I was levitating their clothing!"

Charlie nodded his head in understanding as he called back, "Mind the edge, Hermione!" He then directed his attention to the source of the explosion.

He didn't have to look far, for Thompson was urging his broomstick to rapidly make its way toward a man that was helplessly trying to run away from it, flinging poorly aimed curses over his shoulder, as the rocky landscape was doing him no favors.

Thompson easily deflected each curse thrown at him, for he then shot a jet of purple light at the man, who cried out in pain, before he was blasted forward, his head knocking into a large, jagged stone, knocking him out cold.

Thompson hurried over to the man, as he waved his wand, making a net appear. He then moved the man's lifeless form into the net, before it tied itself together, successfully snaring him from escape.

Charlie and Jay flew over to Thompson, as Charlie said, "Let's head back to the reserve. Maybe this fellow," he continued, pointing to the man trapped within the net, "can give us some answers. We've had enough fighting for one day."

With that, Charlie and Hermione, with Mulligan and the fellow worker incapacitated between them, helped hover the great body of the Romanian Longhorn with Jay, while Thompson floated along the man in the bag at his side. Together, this odd procession left the Castle of Stone and flew back towards the dragon camp.

As they did so, Charlie's mind wandered over the house he and Hermione had found deep in the woods before, wondering what it was there for. Little did he know that at that very moment, the small house was full of light, for its owner had returned. In a fit of rage, the owner screamed at the top of his lungs, comfortable with the fact that no one could hear him, for he noticed that the piece of parchment he had left behind was gone.


	14. What Fools Dream Of

Hello all! Sorry this chapter is a day late...life has been pretty hectic at the moment. Anyway, I hope the small wait was worth it. Chapter 15 will be posted Sunday night. Thanks for reading.

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Chapter 14: What Fools Dream Of

They were back in St. Mungo's hospital in London, marking the third time she and Charlie had set foot in the hospital in one day, 'A record,' as Terrance had told them when he saw them arrive in the same ward he was confined to, at least until his shoulder showed signs of improvement.

Director Mulligan and his broomstick partner, a man by the name of Henry Nightingale, had minor injuries after they were both knocked unconscious when a dragon poacher had exploded their broomstick apart, seconds after they had put the Romanian Longhorn to sleep. They would recover, according to Healer Millie, in a short amount of time.

The dragon poacher on the other hand, a man who didn't seem to have a name as of yet, was in critical condition with a fractured skull and internal bleeding of the brain after he was blasted into a large, jagged stone. The dragon poacher was lying on the same ward as Terrance, Phillip, Mulligan, and Nightingale, though his room had an auror protecting its entryway.

When Charlie and Hermione regaled their capture of the Romanian Longhorn back to Terrance, he seemed to be rather reluctant to show any signs of excitement; Charlie later told Hermione that Terrance was just bitter he did not get to go along with them.

With the pair now standing just outside of Mulligan's room door, as the director was downing each potion Healer Millie gave him, shooting her dirty looks of foul-tasting resentment as he did so, they found time to talk about the predicament they were in.

"We have to go to the Ministry tomorrow morning," Charlie said softly to her. Hermione turned to look over at him and nodded her head in understanding, feeling her wild, bushy hair crawl over her cheeks in its own messiness.

"We're going to tell Director Mulligan, aren't we," Hermione questioned, "about the house we found."

Charlie nodded his head as he replied, "Most definitely. I still have the parchment with me I took from it. Something definitely isn't right about that place. I'm wondering if that that house belonged to that dragon poacher that blasted Mulligan's broomstick apart."

"It's possible," Hermione said, "I mean, how else would the other poachers have gotten onto the reserve?"

"The only problem is that the house was a fair distance away from the Castle of Stone. The poacher couldn't have apparated and I didn't see any broomstick around him either."

"Did you take a deep look around the area he was in? He could've easily hid a broomstick in one of the rock crevices; there were many of them," Hermione reasoned.

"Maybe, but something tells me that this poacher planned it."

Hermione looked over at Charlie, seeing a faraway distance in his sea blue eyes, as if he was caught within the wind sails of the vast ocean, trying to find the nearest port to dock upon or else he would've been lost to its deepest waters.

"What are you saying, Charlie?"

He then looked over at her and answered, "I'm saying that there were more than two poachers that infiltrated the reserve earlier this morning. Terrance told us to meet him in the Center of Directions, along with the other handlers who were on the graveyard shift. That means that the pens were all emptied and the poachers had free reign in them. After the two poachers flew off to Woan and we followed, no one knows what happened during that time, and that's when I think the Romanian Longhorn was set loose."

"What would be the purpose of setting a dragon loose, though," Hermione voiced, seeing deep lines of concern crisscross over Charlie's features, converging into what looked like a Muggle game board.

"I don't know, but I just have this feeling that something more was meant to happen back in the Castle of Stone but for some reason, it didn't pan out. I felt it when we flew back to the reserve," Charlie said darkly.

Hermione looked down the empty hallway, save for the lone auror who was guarding the captured dragon poacher's door, at nothing in particular, her mind lost in deep thoughts surrounding everything that had happened that day. To her, she knew that perhaps she and Charlie were hypothesizing in pools deep enough for the entire Ministry of Magic to fit comfortably within.

"Should we talk about this tomorrow, with Minister Shacklebolt and the Romanian minister," Hermione asked.

"This may sound a bit harsh, but I don't put any faith within our own Ministry to try and work out problems that lie beyond their own borders, meaning they don't care about anything that happens outside of Great Britain. I would wager it's the exact same with Romania, as well."

"Well, Kingsley seems to be a far more competent minister than his predecessors," Hermione thought aloud, shrugging her shoulders. "Maybe he can be the one to turn things around for everyone involved."

Charlie stared over at Hermione, while a ghost of small smile hugged the corners of his mouth.

"Politics, Hermione, is a very dangerous game to play. It changes people, like my brother Percy for instance, you know all about him and all that rubbish," Charlie responded with a slightly bitter look on his face.

"Maybe it has to do with the person and not politics itself," Hermione said back. "Percy was ambitious, even when we were at Hogwarts together. He was corrupted with power that he may have wanted ever since he became a prefect, or Head Boy."

"Perhaps," Charlie replied, though Hermione could tell he didn't buy her rationale.

Just when she thought about pushing her point further, Charlie suddenly said, "You want to go check in on Phillip? We haven't gone by to see if he's woken up since we got back."

"Okay," Hermione agreed, turning on her heel to walk beside Charlie down the quiet halls of St. Mungo's.

They walked by Terrance's room, as Hermione rolled her eyes when he saw him flirting with another healer, one that didn't go by the name of 'Millie.'

In the next room over, Charlie and Hermione noticed that Phillip's room door was closed. Looking in through the window, they saw that he was still fast asleep.

Charlie sighed, commenting, "Well, it doesn't look like he's been up yet."

"Are you two looking for Phillip," a clear voice unexpectedly said from behind them.

Both Charlie and Hermione turned around and saw an aged man standing nearby, with a paper cup in his hand. This man was rather tall, standing slightly taller than Charlie, as he had a round face, wisps of his thinning light, brown hair combed over his head. He was wearing a buttoned-down checkered dress shirt, a piece of clothing that looked distinctly Muggle, covered in small dark green and brown boxes.

"Um, yeah," Charlie answered, albeit a bit awkwardly, as he and Hermione didn't know who this man was.

The man nodded his head, his mouth pressed into a thin line, one that depicted grimness.

"He's been up a few times, here and there, about once every hour," the man told them, "but the healer's say that he hasn't gotten his sense back of him breaking into reality. They tell me that it'll be soon, though."

"Uh, I don't mean to be rude," Charlie started slowly, stealing a quick glance from Hermione, "but who are you?"

The man chuckled, the grimness framing his mouth losing its weight, as he replied, "Forgive me for not introducing myself before, but I'm Phillip's father. My name is Edvin, Edvin Soren."

"Oh, well, it's nice to meet you Mr. Soren," Charlie said, a light red flaming his cheeks. He stuck out his hand and introduced, "My name is Charlie Weasley. I work with Phillip back on the dragon reserve in Romania."

"Ah, the famous Charlie Weasley," Edvin remarked, a smile now coating his face as he shook Charlie's hand, "and please, call me Edvin. Phillip talks very highly of you, Mr. Weasley; he is very fond of your friendship with him."

Charlie's cheeks flared a deep shade of red as Edvin turned to Hermione and inquired, "And you are?"

"My name is Hermione Granger," she replied, taking her turn in shaking Edvin's free hand, which was warm and soft to the touch. "I just accepted a job with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures recently."

"I thought it was you, Miss Granger, but my eyes are getting a bit old on me, and I don't have my glasses with me to have gotten a clearer picture of you," he said to her, making her smile. "Well, come in, come in, Phillip isn't awake but there's no harm in you visiting him."

Charlie and Hermione looked over at one another as they followed Edvin into Phillip's room.

The three then crowded around Phillip's bed, as Hermione saw that he had a mammoth bandage covering his forehead, while he looked very pale. He had small scrapes covering his face while a dark indent was wound around his neck.

'That must be from where the rope had chocked him,' Hermione thought to herself.

His bed sheets were pulled up to his chest, as his light brown hair still looked wind-swept, as if he had just taken another ride on a broomstick and crept into the bed he was now lying in, fast asleep.

"He's not too hurt, according to the healers," Edvin suddenly said, his eyes still fixated down upon his wounded son. "The worst injury he sustained was a mighty blow to the back of his head."

"I think that was from a brick," Charlie commented aloud, making Edvin look over at him, "I saw one next to Phillip after the fight was over."

Edvin nodded his head, as his mouth had once again regained its grimness about it.

"He'll wake up soon enough," his father sighed, as he set his paper cup down upon a small table situated next to a chair behind him, beside a pair of glasses that was resting atop of a thick tome.

Hermione looked over at the paper cup; Edvin noticed this as he said to her, "It's just pumpkin juice. I thought it would be better for me to take a small walk around St. Mungo's for several minutes rather than stay holed up in here the entire time waiting for Phillip to come to."

"Phillip's a good guy," Hermione remarked over to Edvin, "I didn't know him for very long, but he's a great friend to have."

"That's nice of you to say. Phillip thinks very highly of you too, Hermione."

"Me," Hermione questioned, her brows furrowed deep into her forehead.

"Yes, both you and Charlie. He wrote home about you two attending his birthday celebration," Edvin noted, a rather sad smile working its way over his face, "he said it was the best one he'd ever had."

Hermione felt her heart burn for Phillip, as while it might very well be one of the best birthdays he's had, she didn't think it was much of a celebration at all, as only she and Charlie had showed up.

She looked over at Charlie and saw that his eyes were cast down upon the floor, as he wasn't able to look over at Edvin, being that he had rallied against the idea of going to Phillip's birthday gathering.

"Listen," Edvin then spoke up, his eyes dancing between Charlie and Hermione, "I just wanted to thank the two of you for befriending Phillip."

"Mr. Soren," Charlie started, but with a sharp glare, he corrected, "Edvin, there's no need to thank us."

"Maybe not," he replied, "but I know that Phillip isn't the easiest person to get along with. I mean, he's literally a walking encyclopedia of dragon knowledge – he knows everything about each one of 'em, down to how bad your burn will be on a cold winter's eve from a Swedish Short-Snout! For Phillip, ever since he was a small boy, making friends hasn't come easy to him. Even whilst at Hogwarts, Phillip didn't have any friends from which to speak of. He said that the other kids would tease him for having his nose stuck in a book all day. Even some of the professors over there were concerned about his introverted behavior; they felt that he was alienating his own peers in order to read."

At these words, Hermione looked from Edvin to Phillip, thinking about how alike the two of them were. However, while Hermione had found friends in Harry and Ron, she had a distinct feeling that Phillip was never able to find that sort of companionship…he was never able to find any friends at all.

"Even though he and I didn't have a great relationship when he was younger, I worried about him all the time, and I worried about his future. I would ask myself if my son would ever be able to find any sort of friends at all. I would think deep into the night about ways where I could introduce Phillip to kids his own age over the summer break, just so he would have someone his own age to talk to and to be around. Phillip, though, just preferred to be alone. I mean, I don't think there's anything wrong with it, it's just his nature, but I want him to be able to enjoy his own youth. It's been hard not having his mother around and all, but I'm trying the best I can to make things easier for him."

Hermione inwardly sighed, as he felt her heart plummet into a freezing terrain, thinking about Phillip doing life alone.

"Well you don't have to worry about him anymore, Mr. Soren," Hermione stated, "I mean Edvin," she righted after he fixed her with the same look he did with Charlie moments before. "Phillip has both Charlie and I as friends."

Edvin smiled at the pair of them, as he said softly, "Thank you."

After a moment's silence, Edvin spoke up, "I guess the pair of you didn't get too banged up then back in Romania?"

"No, we both are fine," Charlie answered, "it's just Phillip and Terrance that we've been worried about."

"Terrance, did you say," Edvin queried to Charlie, "the fellow whose room is right next to this one's?"

"Yeah, he has really short brown hair," Charlie replied.

"He's a funny fellow alright," Edvin noted. "I accidentally walked into his room earlier this afternoon. He asked me who I was which was I when I realized the room wasn't Phillip's. Phillip's mother always told me that I had a bad habit of wandering into rooms I had no business being in. Anyway, I introduced myself as Phillip's father and the fellow suddenly turned sour. He then went on to ignore me and I saw myself out. Come to think of it, I do remember Phillip mentioning the name 'Terrance' in one of his letters, but that was years ago if I recall correctly; here's to hoping my mind hasn't gotten as bad as my eyesight. I'm not sure what he said about him."

"Terrance is a bit…different," Charlie then said, "you could say he likes to hold grudges."

At this, Edvin looked over at Charlie and questioned, "Did Phillip do something to this Terrance fellow?"

It was at this time that Hermione understood that Edvin didn't know about what happened with his son, and how close he was to death not even a year ago when he was found in a pen along with two mating Hungarian Horntails. Hermione wondered how news of that incident could've missed his father's ears.

Hermione looked over at Charlie and saw that he was struggling to come up with an answer that both skimmed over the truth, yet didn't outright lie.

"Phillip didn't do anything to Terrance exactly," Charlie finally managed to say, before he fell quiet.

Hermione looked back at Edvin, and saw that even though he was nodding his head, his eyes told her that he knew there was more to the story than Charlie was letting on, though it wasn't something he was going to pursue at that moment.

An uncomfortable silence overtook the trio, as their eyes returned onto Phillip's resting form. His chest rose and fell in even spells, as it looked as if all he was doing was taking a rather peaceful nap.

"Well, I don't want to keep you kids here all night long. You should get going to wherever you are headed out to," Edvin said. "I reckon it's nearly dinner time, isn't it?"

Charlie looked down at his watch, which was still situated next to his leather cuff, and replied, "It's nearly six. We should probably get back home."

"It was nice meeting you though, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger," Edvin said, nodding to both of them in turn, "and I sincerely hope that we are all able to meet again under healthier circumstances."

"It was nice to meet you too," Hermione noted, as Charlie shook his hand in farewell.

The pair then exited Phillip's room, as Charlie softly shut the door on their exit. Hermione peeked back through the room's window and saw that Edvin had settled himself down in one of the chairs beside Phillip's bed, as he put on his glasses, picked up his book, and started reading.

As Charlie and Hermione walked away from Phillip's room, Hermione commented, "Phillip's dad seems nice."

"He does," Charlie agreed, "Phillip looks exactly like him, don't you think?"

Hermione thought about this, picturing Phillip and Edvin standing side-by-side in her own mind.

"A bit," she conceded, "but Phillip definitely has features that are different from Edvin. I never knew that about him, though."

Charlie looked over at her, saying, "About him having no friends?"

Hermione nodded her head. "I mean, I guess I knew about it with what you told me before, but…I don't know, I guess I can relate."

At this, Charlie stopped walking as he lightly grabbed Hermione's hand and spun her around to face him.

As she looked up at him, she realized that his features had grown into one that masked inward pain.

"What do you mean 'you can relate'?"

Hermione looked away from Charlie's eyes, not intent on having a conversation about her not having friends before she came to Hogwarts in a hallway of St. Mungo's.

"Hermione," Charlie pressed on, as his eyes scanned her face, trying to read her thoughts that were floating around in her head.

"I'll tell you later, Charlie," Hermione said softly to him, "just not now."

He sighed, as he stared at her for a long moment, not saying anything; all he did was continue to stare at her. In turn, she stared back at him, keenly aware of the fact that they were standing very close to one another, while one of her hands trapped in his.

"Another time then," he agreed, before he leaned forward and planted a soft, yet quick kiss against the top of her forehead.

They then resumed their walking down the hallway of St. Mungo's, passing Terrance's room, their hands entwined with one another's. For some reason, Hermione felt rather uncomfortable with this. Perhaps it was because she and Charlie had yet to define what they were in terms of friends or something more. Of course, since that conversation where Hermione revealed her feelings to Charlie, both have had to go after dragon poachers along with rescuing a rogue dragon that had escaped (or had been set loose) from its pen.

However, Hermione didn't like for her feelings to be toyed around with. While she didn't think Charlie was doing exactly that, he never did give her an answer of what he wanted to be with her.

"I just want to check in on Director Mulligan before we go," Charlie said down to her.

As Hermione nodded her head in silence, he then questioned, "Hermione, is something wrong?"

She wanted to say, 'Yes, something is wrong,' but instead, she looked up at him and answered, "No, I'm just thinking is all."

After walking several more paces, the pair saw Director Mulligan emerge from his room, pulling his traveling cloak over his shoulders.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger," he called out to them, as the two parties walked towards one another. "I'm heading back to the Ministry right away. I'm going to need to have McGill get me another portkey back to Romania."

"Sir," Hermione started, "don't you think that Mr. McGill might've left to go home? It's nearly six o'clock."

"He hasn't yet," Mulligan replied, "I sent him a patronus to wait for me."

"How are you feeling," Charlie then inquired.

"I'll be fine," the director replied gruffly, "but I can't stand bloody hospitals. I feel like if they'd ever keep me overnight, I might conclude with the act of throwing myself out a rear window; I wouldn't even bother to blast it apart before I jumped. You two, however, need to report to the Ministry tomorrow morning at nine. I talked with one of the healers and they told me that Terrance will be cleared to leave this place sometime tonight; Phillip, on the other hand, well, I'm not sure about him."

"We just visited him and his father said that he's woken up several times but not for very long," Hermione spoke up.

"Hmph, well, I guess we'll have to make do without him for now. You two look like you could use a break. Go home, eat, and get some rest, that's an order," Mulligan commanded, before he turned away without giving Charlie or Hermione a chance to reply.

Charlie looked over at Hermione and said, "I guess we'll tell him about the house that we found in the forest tomorrow. Are you ready to go, then?"

"Yeah," she responded.

The two of them then disappeared with a small _POP_ , as the last thing that Hermione saw was the auror who was standing guard of the dragon poacher's door.

* * *

Dinner that night at the Burrow was a noisy affair for Bill, Fleur, and their daughter, Victoire had all stopped by, much to Mrs. Weasley's immense enjoyment.

With food piled high upon the kitchen table, many different conversations flowed around the table, as Hermione sat next to Charlie, who had Victoire sitting in his lap. She seemed to be rather fond of the second-oldest Weasley brother, for at random times, he would make funny faces at her, making her giggle into hysterics. When her laughter quieted down, she would pull upon the highest point of his t-shirt she could reach, as he again morphed his face into a wide array of jovial masks.

Meanwhile, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were discussing how the former two's auror training was going. Harry seemed to be excited about the practical training that would be going on next week, while Ron grumbled lowly about things like 'rubbish spells' and 'boring busywork.'

Hermione and Charlie's rescue of the Romanian Longhorn was not spoken about (though Mrs. Weasley kept giving Charlie and Hermione curious glances), as Hermione reasoned that to Charlie, bringing back a rogue dragon was one of the many duties his job required of him on the reserve, and perhaps their afternoon escapade wasn't vastly different from his previous excursions.

After dinner had finished, while Ginny was playing with Victoire and Charlie was conversing with Bill and Fleur, Harry said to Hermione, "Can we talk for a bit?"

"Sure," she said, a bit taken aback, as he led her out of the kitchen and into the empty living room, while Ron followed behind them.

Harry and Hermione sat on one couch, while Ron took a seat in a comfortable-looking armchair next to them.

"What is it, Harry," Hermione questioned.

"Listen, Hermione, Ron and I have heard things this week…things that we think you should know about," Harry started.

Hermione looked over at him and saw that he looked rather serious. She then trained her eyes on Ron who softly nodded his head.

"What kind of things did you hear," Hermione pressed on.

Harry and Ron shared a quick look with each other before Ron said, "In the auror department, we've been hearing some strange things about the new dragon reserve that's set to open in Wales. I mean, it's opening next week, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's opening on Monday," Hermione answered. "What kind things are people saying in the auror department?"

"We heard two aurors talk about this new type of dragon -," Harry started.

"The Victorian Shaler," Hermione interrupted, "it was just discovered in northern Canada, near Victoria Island."

"Yeah, that's the one. Don't you think it's strange, Hermione, that a new dragon species was just discovered recently," Harry asked.

"Maybe it's a bit unusual, but not unheard of," she tried to reason.

"Yeah, but dragons are bloody huge," Ron exclaimed, "How could a witch or wizard not have seen a Victorian Shaler until now?"

"Honestly, the world is a large place. I'm sure there are other different animal species, including dragons, that have yet to be discovered," Hermione replied.

"You're right, but there were many different witches and wizards whose job it is to go and find different magical species," Harry proposed. "I think that Ron makes a fair point: dragons are big creatures. Something just doesn't feel right about this new one."

"Does the auror department talk a lot about the new dragon reserve," Hermione inquired.

"A fair bit," Ron said, "apparently it's the most exciting thing that's happening with the Ministry at the moment. There hasn't been a dragon reserve over here for a long time," Ron said. With another glance at Harry, he added, "But there was one other thing that we heard about this new dragon species."

Hermione looked over at the pair of them, as uncomfortable looks were plastered against both of their faces.

"What is it," she encouraged.

"Ron and I heard two aurors talking about the Victorian Shaler at lunch yesterday, and well…they didn't seem to think that it was real," Harry said somewhat quietly.

Hermione looked over at Harry while she was trying to comprehend what he had just said to her.

"They question the authenticity of whether the Victorian Shaler exists," Hermione asked.

Harry simply nodded his head in answer.

"Why would there be a need for anyone to make up whether or not a dragon exists," Hermione asked next. "I don't see any logical point in doing so."

"It apparently has to do with political agendas," Harry replied calmly, "something that I don't really understand too much about. Our professor briefly talked about with the war now being over, foreign magical ministries will try to conduct more business with our own Ministry."

"That may be," Hermione agreed, "but I still don't see why anyone would think to make a story of the Victorian Shaler existing. The director of the reserve in Romania was just over in Canada, observing it in its natural habitat."

"We didn't say that we believed them," Ron interjected, taking a quick look over at Harry, "we're just telling you what we overheard them saying."

"All the times I talked with Charlie about the Victorian Shaler, he never gave any doubt that it existed," Hermione thought aloud. "In fact, he seemed excited for it."

"What was I excited for," Charlie's voice suddenly questioned from nearby.

The trio turned to see Charlie framed in the doorway of the kitchen, his bulky outline blocking the light and laughter emitting from it. He stepped into the living room and took a seat on the floor in front of the couch Harry and Hermione were occupying, stretching out his legs in front of him, while he put his arms behind him, resting upon the palms of his hands.

"How d'you know we're talking about you," Ron asked, giving him a strange look.

"I heard you three talking about dragons and Romania…it isn't hard to piece the two together," he retorted. He then directed his attention to Hermione, as she thought that he wanted her to answer his question.

"Harry and Ron were telling me that some aurors were doubtful of whether or not the Victorian Shaler exists," Hermione said to him. "The aurors believe that this could be some political ploy now that the war is finally over."

She tried to gauge Charlie's expression, yet his face remained a mask of stone, betraying no hints of what he might be feeling or thinking. She could feel both Harry and Ron beside her, trying to read the second-oldest Weasley brother as well, seeing what he made of whispered rumors.

"I guess I've never asked you this," Hermione started again, making every head in the vicinity look to her, "but is it uncommon for new dragons to be found today?"

Charlie took his time answering her question, for his eyes swept around the living room a couple of different times, as if the answer to Hermione's query lay behind an object close by.

"It's definitely rare," he began, "but I believe it's happened before some time ago, before I started working on the reserve. I can't say that I'm too surprised that some people are questioning its existence; I did myself when I first heard about it."

"You did," Ron asked.

"Hermione and I read about the Victorian Shaler before we left for Romania, and its behavior seemed too peculiar for a typical dragon to behave by. The most glaring oddity that I read over was that they like to be in the company of other dragons. I already told Hermione that dragons are very territorial creatures; they like their own space," Charlie responded. "But there's no doubt in my mind that the Victorian Shaler is a very real dragon."

"Are they going to move one of those things over the ocean for it to get to Wales," Ron inquired.

Charlie gave his youngest brother a soft smile, something in it indicating that Ron was quite obtuse with his work in dragons.

"No, Ron, it's impossible to move an entire, full-grown dragon over an ocean. Two of its eggs are going to be brought over to Wales. Of course, I'm not saying that this is just the sharing of a new dragon species to the European continent; for all we know, this could be part of a bigger political maneuver."

However, just then, a thought entered into Hermione's mind. It was what one of the dragon poachers had said to her back before their escape from Woan. Hermione noticed that Charlie was staring at her with a quizzical gaze, yet he didn't ask her aloud what was bothering her.

Whether or not the Victorian Shaler was real or if it was a mere pawn of a political chess match, events were unfolding…events that didn't sit well with Hermione. Broken and scattered pieces littered the pathway she had chosen as a career, a trail she felt the need to make sense of, whilst she was wrestling with her feelings over what she wanted her and Charlie to become.

"Come back in the kitchen for some treacle tart, you lot," Ginny's voice suddenly yelled out to them. They all turned their heads towards her swishing red hair as she turned back towards the kitchen table to take her seat.

Ron's eyes lit up at the news as he made a mad dash back into the kitchen, while Harry, Hermione, and Charlie all stood to their feet.

"Thanks for telling us this, Harry," Hermione said softly to him.

He gave her a lopsided small that didn't reach his eyes as he responded, "I didn't say anything special, just something that Ron and I overheard."

"Still, thank you."

Harry nodded his head to her as he and Hermione shared a look with each other, a look that wasn't of romance or intimacy, but one of sibling love.

He then passed by her and walked away while Hermione turned to face Charlie.

"Okay, so out with it," he said to her lightly.

"Out with what," she asked in a confused manner.

"Hermione, I saw a look on your face before; it was like a light bulb suddenly went off in your head. What did you think of?"

"With Harry and Ron telling us that some aurors don't think that the Victorian Shaler is real, it made me think about what one of the dragon poachers said to me back in Woan. Remember, I told you that one of them said to me, 'You fight for something that doesn't exist.' This can't be just a coincidence. I think that there's something else going on with either the Victorian Shaler or the dragon reserve as a whole," she voiced back to him.

Charlie looked at her as he responded, "You're right, I don't it was just by chance what that dragon poacher said that to you or with what some of the aurors are saying now. Something is going on, but for now, we don't have much to go on."

Hermione sighed and nodded her head in agreement, a wide range of thoughts seeping together to form a large web, a web that was so delicate yet intricate, that it was impossible for Hermione to locate its origin.

She then looked up at Charlie to see various expressions flashes into his eyes: temptation, brevity, hopefulness, fear?

Just as she was about to ask him if he was okay, Mrs. Weasley called out, "Charlie, Hermione, come get some treacle tart!"

Hermione jumped somewhat while Charlie turned his head to look over his shoulder back at the kitchen entryway, a loud nuance of noises meshing together out at them.

After looking back at her, he softly nodded his head towards the racket of the kitchen, as she nodded her head, and walked with him into it.

After desert had been devoured and stomachs were grumbling merrily away, Bill and Fleur decided it was time to leave, for Victoire had fallen asleep in Charlie's arms, his face-shifting jubilee have worn the little baby out.

* * *

As Hermione lay in her bed that night, listening to Ginny's soft breathing spells flow peacefully into and out of her, she tried to shut her eyes and fall asleep. The darkness that enclosed her, however, brought about small bouts of turbulence. Thoughts of the Victorian Shaler and her conversation with Harry and Ron over it, kept replaying within her, as if it was stuck on an endless loop. Deep down, Hermione believed that the dragon existed, for it didn't make any sense for someone to make up an entire new dragon species. Yet, problems plagued the temperament of the dragon, as Charlie had brought up before, which made Hermione think that something was very different about it.

Also, her feelings over wanting more with Charlie were beginning to consume her, like water overrunning the banks of a river, quashing its barracks and running free. The more time she spent with Charlie, even if it was in the presence of somebody else, she felt more drawn to him. It was like she was intoxicated by him, which was strange for her, being that she rarely fell head over heels for a crush. In fact, Hermione couldn't even remember the last time she had felt this strong about someone else; Viktor Krum was somewhat of a fleeting romance, while her feelings for Ron never morphed into anything further than friendship.

Hermione turned over on her side, willing thoughts about the Victorian Shaler and her feelings for Charlie to leave her be just so that she could get a good night's sleep after a wild turn of events that had taken place in the last day. She thought that she would be tired and that she would fall asleep quickly, but the night had plans for her, apparently.

Turning her face into her pillow and nearly groaning in it, she became still, focusing on just her breathing and trying to block out all of other thoughts juggling around in her head.

Hermione slowly felt her eyes grow heavy, like bags of sand, while she felt her head mold into the pillow beneath it as soon, she fell in a mild slumber.

* * *

She was warm, and she was walking down a corridor that resembled one that looked like it was part of St. Mungo's as the tiled floor felt cool beneath her bare feet. After turning a corner, she spotted the auror that was stationed as a guard just outside of the captured dragon poacher's room, his wand in his hand, his cloak turned up at the collar, as if he was a private investigator.

Deep down, Hermione thought that there was something strange about this man, as he then turned his head to look at her. His eyes were of a distant cold land, permeated by a thick snowfall, surrounded by frozen waters. The man didn't give any indication of her presence, but instead just stared at her, seeing what she was going to do.

Hermione looked to her left, into one of the windows of the ward she was standing in, and saw Phillip and his dad, Edvin, talking with one another. Phillip's head was tucked against his chest, while Edvin had one of his hands on his son's shoulders, patting it gently. This made Hermione's heart pang with hurt, as this scene made her think of her own parents.

Tearing her eyes away from Phillip and his father, Hermione noticed that the auror was gone. Instead, what looked like red ooze was creeping out upon the tiled floor from the room that dragon poacher was supposedly in. Hermione slowly walked over to it and realized with horror that the red ooze was blood. In the midst of the blood, that was now creating a puddle in the middle of the corridor, was what looked like a ripped piece of parchment, swimming by, stained with red. Something about this piece of parchment looked familiar to Hermione, as if she had seen it before…

* * *

 _CAGHUH!_

Hermione's eyes popped open. Feeling slightly disoriented, she blinked several times as her eyes adjusted to the darkness surrounding her. Hermione then realized she had been dreaming, dreaming of Phillip and his dad, about the auror guarding the dragon poacher's room, and –

 _CAGHUH!_

Hermione jumped slightly and looked to her left, where the noise was originating from: it was coming from Ginny, who was fast asleep, her mouth hanging open ever so slightly, a hog-like snort emitting from her ever other moment.

Hermione sighed as he turned over on her side, away from Ginny, and shut her eyes again. However, whenever she closed her eyes, she now saw the image of Phillip's dad patting his son's shoulders in a fatherly show of affection, a likeness that was not lost on Hermione.

Hermione sighed audibly as she opened her eyes as she crept out from under her bed covers and as quietly as she could, departed from Ginny's room, softly closing her door on her latest _CAGHUH!_

She took her time walking down the stairs of the Burrow, as she then wandered into its darkened living room, taking a seat on the couch she and Harry had occupied hours earlier. She pulled her knees up against her chest, as her eyes stared out of a nearby window, watching a mess of clouds pass over the sky, obscuring the collection of stars up above. They twinkled as if they were winking down on everything that rested below them, while Hermione caught a faint glimpse of a small group of bright-colored fairies flying around the orchard paces away from the Burrow.

Thoughts swirled around in Hermione's mind, not of the Victorian Shaler or her feelings over Charlie, but of her parents. She wondered what they were doing right now, if they were safe, if they even held a small trace of having a daughter before. Although Hermione was surrounded by the many occupants of the Burrow, along with the rather large number of Weasleys she was close to, she still felt a bit lonely without her parents in England with her...it was like she was now part of her own family, one that was broken away from her mum and dad, yet still held the 'Granger' last name.

"Hermione?"

Hermione whipped her head around, startled by her name suddenly being called out from behind her.

Squinting in the darkness, she saw Charlie making his way towards her, dressed in a plain, white t-shirt and midnight blue pajama bottoms that hugged his ankles.

"Charlie, what are you doing awake," Hermione asked him, a bit perturbed by his unexpected presence.

"I could ask you the same thing," he shot back. Hermione noted that he didn't look or sound at all tired, as if he had been up for the better part of most of the night.

Hermione looked up at him before he relented, "I just came down for some tea."

"In the middle of the night?"

"Tea helps me relax," he stated, "do you want some?"

Hermione was tempted to say 'yes,' but instead, she found herself shaking her head from side to side.

"Thanks, but I don't feel like having tea right now," she said to him.

"Suit yourself," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "I'll be right back."

With that, Charlie walked out of the living room and into the kitchen, not even bothering to turn on its lights. Hermione heard a mild clamoring of a tea mug and the screeching of the kettle as Charlie worked in the darkness.

Several minutes later he reappeared, carrying two mugs of tea in both of his hands, steam billowing out of each one.

"Charlie, I told you that I didn't want any," Hermione reprimanded lightly.

"That's what you said but your face told a different story," he responded, handing her a tea cup. "Do you mind if I sit next to you?"

"No, no, not at all," Hermione said, scooting towards one end of the couch to make room for Charlie.

After he sat down, the two took sips of their teas Charlie brewed for them, Hermione welcoming the hot contents spilling down her throat.

"So, you still haven't told me why you're up," Charlie suddenly said.

"I had a dream that reminded me of something and I didn't think that I would be able to go back to sleep afterwards," Hermione responded simply, as she tucked a curl behind one of her ears.

"What type of dream was it," Charlie questioned, turning to face her.

"The first part of it, I saw Phillip and his dad," she told him softly. "Seeing them reminded me of my parents."

Charlie nodded his head at her as she continued, "Even today, talking with Edvin, you could how much he cared about Phillip. I guess I just haven't felt that in a long time."

"Felt what in a long time," Charlie queried over to her.

She looked away from him as she answered, "Cared for."

"Hermione, you know that's not true," he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

"I know it's not; I know everyone at the Burrow cares for me, but it's different with your parents. I miss them but I don't even think they would recognize me today. I feel so different now than I felt when I saw them for the last time before I modified their memories."

Charlie turned his entire body to face hers as he supplied, "You said you were going to get your parents back though, right?"

"I did," Hermione nodded, "but now, I'm thinking about just leaving them there."

"What? Why would you do that?"

"The main reason I sent them away was so that they could be safe from the war, away from everything that was happening. But now, with what happened back in Romania, and these strange rumors going on about the Victorian Shaler, I don't know what I would be bringing them back to."

"Hermione," Charlie began, "your parents would be safe back in England. I know you miss them a lot and with the war now over, you can have them back."

Hermione looked away from Charlie as she took another sip of her tea as her nostrils filled with its scent.

"Things have changed Charlie…it actually feels like everything has changed," Hermione said after a long moment. "Before I modified their memories, I felt that my parents and I were drifting farther apart."

Charlie cocked his head to one side, setting down his mug on a nearby table, and asked, "What do you mean?"

"It's more of an identification issue, really. They can't identify with me and who I am because of magic, even though they want to. Magic is just something that they can't understand; they can see it happen and they can be enchanted by it, but that's it…there's nothing more to it than that. But to us, witches and wizards, magic is part of who we are; for some us, our magic defines us. Words can only say so much; sometimes, you have to experience what you don't understand to fully grasp the concept of a world that you aren't a part of."

"Look, even though I don't know how hard it is to feel like that about your parents," Charlie said, "you seem to love them a lot. That love that you have for them won't just go away over time. In fact, it might manifest itself into a greater desire for you to go and get them back. But only so much time can pass before it'll be too late. Imagine if you showed up at their door down in Australia, years from now, and restored their memories. They would look around for a younger Hermione."

"But I've already changed so much from the war, Charlie. I'm not the same person that I was a year ago. Before I modified my parents' memories, I could tell that they knew something was going on with the wizarding world. I think they wanted me to tell them everything, everything from the beginning of first year back at Hogwarts," Hermione lamented.

"You never told them anything about it," Charlie questioned, as he rubbed his chest absent-mindedly.

"I told them things that I thought wouldn't get me into any trouble, like having Harry and Ron as friends, along with my grades, and which professors I liked the best. But I left out other things."

"Hang on a minute," Charlie cut in, as he stopped his hand from rubbing his chest, "what other things are we talking about?"

"Ron hasn't told you?"

"Well, truthfully, I've been away much of the time he was at school," Charlie answered, growing weary of what he might have missed. "What type of things didn't you tell your parents about?"

Hermione let out a deep sight before she said, "Me getting petrified back in second year, the fight at the Ministry of Magic back in fifth year, when Professor Dumbledore died back in -,"

"Hang on, hang on, hang on," Charlie uttered very rapidly, waving his hands in the air, "slow down for a minute. What happened to you in second year?"

"I was petrified," Hermione responded simply, "but a basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets."

A look of horror ran over Charlie's features.

"The one that nearly got Ginny?"

Hermione nodded her head.

After Charlie took a minute to recompose himself, he then issued, "And what happened to you back in fifth year? I know Ron went a bit funny and Ginny broke her ankle at the Ministry, but I'm running a blank on you."

"I was cursed by the Death Eater Dolohov down in the Department of Mysteries. When I woke up, I was in the hospital wing back at Hogwarts."

"What curse did he hit you with?"

"I'm not sure but it looked like a purple flame," Hermione told him. Sighing audibly, Hermione unbuttoned the top of her pajamas, and jerked it to the right, showing Charlie a scar that stretched over her skin, it looking deformed. "Madam Pomfrey said it'll never fully go away but after a while, it'll fade into a small line."

Charlie stared over at Hermione's light purple scar…the ramifications of just how much she had changed over the years now a badge upon her body.

As Hermione buttoned her top again, Charlie said, "Your parents could help you through this, Hermione. Yes, they will probably never understand all that you've been through, but they're your mum and dad…they know you better than anyone else; they even might know you better than you know of yourself."

"I don't know, Charlie," Hermione murmured softly, looking down at her lap.

"I'm saying that you have to figure this all you tonight, but I'm suggesting that you reconsider leaving them in Australia." When Hermione didn't say anything more, Charlie stated, "You're robbing them of a daughter, whom I'm one-hundred percent positive they love very much."

At this, Hermione looked up at him, her brown irises depicting a mixture of hurt, yet also comprehension.

"I'll think about it," Hermione finally replied with a whisper, "but only if you come with me." She said this with complete and utter seriousness, making Charlie's eyes grow wide as his brows shot nearly into his red hairline.

"You want me to come with you?" After Hermione nodded her head, he asked, "Why?"

"Everything feels different around you Charlie, different in a good way. I told you back on the reserve last night…it feels, right, with you."

"I'm not a 'prince charming' Hermione. All I am is someone who workers with dragons."

"Did you mean what you said to me?"

Charlie gave her a puzzled looked as she expanded, "When you said that you wanted to be with me?"

Hermione held her breath while Charlie just stared over at her. When he didn't answer, she looked away from him, feeling ashamed at the fact that Charlie really didn't harbor any feelings for her, countering what he said to her the previous night.

Just as Hermione made to go back to Ginny's room, feeling dejected and downhearted, Charlie lightly stopped her by grabbing her arm. Without a second's hesitation's, Charlie pulled Hermione to him, and softly molded his lips against hers.

Caught completely by surprise, Hermione stiffened against him, with her eyes wide. Then, ever so slowly, she melted into him, moving her lips against his in an even fashion. After several heated moments, they slowly pulled apart, Hermione's heart hammering wildly against her, while her head was spinning.

She opened her eyes and saw Charlie smiling over at her in a very boyish way, as he rested his arm against the back of the couch, putting his head on his closed fist.

"Was that a satisfactory answer for you," he asked her quietly.

She quietly laughed into her hand as she said, "Much."

"Just so you know, I've wanted to do that for quite some time now, but it was worth every second waiting for it."

Staring over at one another, both of their teas now long forgotten and growing cold, Charlie remarked, "Did you still want to head back up to bed?"

Hermione shook her head from side to side, responding, "Not quite yet."

"Good," Charlie complimented, "because I think I found the perfect thing to help me relax."

"Really, and what would that be?"

Without answering, Charlie slowly leaned back towards Hermione, their lips enfolding one another's again.

As Charlie and Hermione continued their midnight lip-lock perusal, miles away at St. Mungo's hospital in London, dark red blood was leaking out upon the tiled floor of the hallway, it coming from the captured dragon poacher's room.


	15. Tea with Mrs Weasley

Chapter 15: Tea with Mrs. Weasley

A light wind fluttered around her, making her bushy hair dance in mid-air before it softly swished back against her. A stray curl tickled her cheek but she didn't care to brush it away for her mind was on other matters at that moment in time of the early morning.

Hermione was in Amata, sitting on the flat rock she and Charlie had done numerous times before…before everything had started unfolding, unleashing a chain of complicated events, all linked together in some fashion, yet was hidden from the naked eye and logical sense.

On one hand, Charlie had finally made known his feelings towards Hermione the previous night, by brushing his lips against hers. In all fairness, even though Hermione shared the same sentiments for him, she didn't expect to spend all night (in addition to quite a bit of the early morning) in a heated lip-lock with the second-oldest Weasley son. Charlie, however, was gentle with her, taking his time to explore her in finite details, all the way down to the single strands of her wild mane of hair.

Hermione smiled to herself, her mind racing back over the images of she and Charlie. Sometime during their snogging session, Hermione had maneuvered herself to nearly sit in Charlie's lap, her hands resting atop of his wide shoulders, while his own two hands traveled down her sides, squeezing at random, making her melt against his muscular form.

Yet, on another hand, Hermione kept thinking over what Harry and Ron had divulged to her after dinner the night before, about how some workers in the Auror Department had thought that the Victorian Shaler was nothing more than a figment of one's own imagination, conjured up for an unknown purpose. Just as she had told Harry and Ron earlier, Hermione could see no logic in why someone, anyone would think to make up a whole new dragon species; what was the point in going through all the trouble in doing so?

Hermione sighed, as she cast her eyes down upon the Daily Prophet sitting in her lap. What was before her was the third subject matter her mind was wrapped around. Plastered against the front page, in big, block letters, the title of ' _Murder in a St. Mungo's Ward: Romanian Socialite Found Dead_ ," jumped out at the reader as if a whole stock of Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-Bangs had erupted against a black sky.

Hermione read over the article three separate times, and each time she did, she found the story to be more confusing and more intricate, like it was just the entrance of a never-ending maze.

The Romanian Socialite, a man by the name of Octavian Rual whom they had captured back in the Castle of Stone, had his throat slashed in the dead of night. The perpetrator, claimed the Daily Prophet, was none other than the auror who was standing guard of the captured dragon poacher's door. The auror has since been whisked away to Azkaban to await trial while St. Mungo's was currently in an uproar, defending its security under a vicious slaying, pointing fingers back at the Ministry of Magic for not adhering to protocol to conduct background checks on who they hire as aurors.

Hermione remembered seeing the auror, even so far as having a dream with him in it, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary with him. It simply looked as if he was doing his job, standing guard over a convict's door; if she to be honest with herself, Hermione thought that the auror actually looked slightly bored with his given duties.

"Something about this doesn't add up," Hermione whispered to herself, crinkling the Daily Prophet in her two hands and holding it up to her face.

"Something bothering you," a voice suddenly called out from behind her.

Even with the weight of death hanging before her eyes, a small smirk grazed over Hermione, as she soundly identified with who had entered into Amata with her.

"Nothing and everything," she answered without turning around, bobbing her left and right.

Another wind kicked in, making the branches of the surrounding trees sway, creaking under the strain, as a pack of gray clouds rolled overhead, barring sunlight from shining down upon the green lands below.

Movement beside her made Hermione relinquish the paper and show it to Charlie who had settled himself next to her, his shoulder touching hers.

"Look at this," she told him softly, giving up the Daily Prophet for him to read over.

His bright blue eyes scanned the front page before they darted right back up, meeting her soft brown ones. Shock flitted over his face, before he scanned over the jumping headline again, saying, "What in the world?"

"Read it," Hermione instructed lightly, as Charlie read the accompanying article in silence.

Hermione studied him as he did so, looking at his stain-covered white t-shirt and blue jeans, seeing his shoes dangle over the edge of the rock they were both situated on. Although his appearance was incredibly Muggle and rather boyish, his features betrayed his age, as Hermione saw stress lines racing down from his eyes and across his cheeks, disappearing somewhere under his chin.

"This can't be a coincidence," he uttered, folding the paper in half and turning his gaze up towards Hermione. "There's something going on."

"I know," Hermione replied rather somberly, nodding her head up and down, "but I don't know what it is. The dragon poachers, the escaped dragon, finding the house in the middle of the woods, the auror's doubting that the Victorian Shaler even existing, and now this, it's all just so confusing."

"Things aren't supposed to be this way," Charlie muttered lowly.

"What do you mean?"

"The war just ended, Hermione, several months ago. Everything was supposed to be fine after Harry defeated You-Know-Who. I thought life would be simpler, not more complicated," he challenged with a low growl. "Why is it that just as things start to settle down, another pops open? Why does life always give us detours when all we want to do is to go forward?"

With this, Hermione leaned against Charlie, letting her weight rest against his. He welcomed the action, stretching his arm around her shoulders and pulling her against him, kissing the top of her head.

"I don't know," was all Hermione said.

For a long moment, the pair just sat there, their bodies bowed against one another, as the wind raced over them.

Hermione closed her eyes, comforted by Charlie's breaths as his body inhaled and exhaled, matching that of her own. No matter everything that had happened to them recently, she felt safe in his arms, like no harm could come to her. The fact that Charlie wanted her, that he was attracted to her intimately and affectionately, made Hermione's bond with Charlie more impactful than she could ever have initially dared to think.

It was as if she didn't want to be separated from him in any way, shape, or form; all she wanted was to be near him, to hear the sound of his voice, letting his deep laughter tickle her, or have his boyish grin crumble her own defenses she had erected for herself all the way back since fourth year. Deep in her heart, her feelings for Charlie felt different, alien to feelings she felt for Viktor and Ron long ago.

Emitting a low sigh, Charlie rested his head atop of her head, before he turned and kissed her forehead, making Hermione smile.

"I see you, Granger," he toyed with her, as a grin spread over his own face.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Charlie, I'm not doing anything," she tossed back.

"Oh please, do you know how big your smile is right now," he jested.

"Smaller than it was before you came," she said.

Charlie barked out a laugh, making Hermione shake against him as her words of hilarity coursed through him.

"Don't make me laugh," he contested.

"You just did," she shot back, her smile growing ever wider with each word she spoke.

"You think you're smart, don't you," he challenged.

"Well, I didn't earn eleven O.W.L.s for not being smart, did I?"

"Now you're just rubbing it in," Charlie stated. Hermione peeked up at him and saw a ghost of a smile masking over him, even though his eyes were fixated to a random point in front of him.

Charlie seemed to sense that Hermione was looking up at him, for her turned his head to look down at her.

"You know," he started after a quiet moment, "last night was one of the best nights I ever had."

Hermione gave him a quizzical look and asked, "Are you sure? I mean, I'm sure you had snogging sessions before, haven't you?"

"I did," he conceded with a nod of his head, "but none of my previous 'snogging sessions,' as you so aptly put it, was with you."

Even though Hermione felt her cheeks burn, she feigned mockery, as she rolled her eyes.

"It probably wasn't anything special," she muttered, turning away from him.

However, Charlie reached out, tucked his thumb under her chin, and gently turned Hermione's head back towards him.

"It was to me," he responded simply.

With those few words, a chill snaked up Hermione's spinal column, making her inwardly shiver against him. There was something deep and passionate in Charlie's eyes that made Hermione temporarily forget how to breathe. It was as if his eyes had turned into a vast sea of icicles, bathing in the glow of a winter sun, shimmering it its glory, rivaling even that of the best of diamonds put on display.

"You don't give yourself enough credit, Hermione," Charlie continued on, "but you're special to a lot of people, including me."

"You're not just saying that," she asked, her defenses having long since deteriorated, leaving her vulnerable side open, seeming to hope that Charlie's words weren't just meaningless phrases strung together for the sake of relationship woes.

"I'm not just saying that," he reciprocated, leaning closer towards her. "I feel different around her, Hermione, but different in a good way. I don't really know how to describe it but I've never felt this way about anyone before, ever. It's strange because we haven't even known each other that long, you know, but I can't help the way I feel."

"And you're sure you don't want to tell your family," she pressed forward.

"Tell them what," he asked back, his eyebrows pulling together to form a single line that stretched over his head.

"About us," Hermione contested quietly.

"We will tell them eventually, just not all at once," he replied, taking one of Hermione's hands in his and kissing the top of it.

"I think Ginny already knows," Hermione commented out loud.

"Yeah, she does seem to get a hang of these things rather quickly," Charlie pondered, messaging one side of his neck with his free hand, as the other was still clasped with Hermione's.

"Come to think of it, Bill was giving us weird looks at dinner last night, both he and Fleur," Charlie rolled on a bit disgruntled.

"Does that bother you," Hermione questioned.

"No but Bill always told me it would only be a matter of time before I found someone that I could see myself settle down with. I disagreed, but then again, this was after I found out my ex had cheated on me. Us being together would make Bill swell up with pride at being right," Charlie explained.

"Ron doesn't seem to know," Charlie said, "and neither does dad."

"What about your mum? Do you think she may have an idea?"

"Maybe," Charlie contemplated, "but rest assured that if it was up to me, mum would find out we were together only after our wedding."

"Charlie, we haven't even been together for a day and you're already talking about a wedding," Hermione exclaimed.

"I was talking figuratively," he responded quickly, though both his face and neck had turned a bright red. "If mum found out about us, she'd go mental."

"Mental in a good way or a bad way," Hermione asked.

"Probably both, but most likely in a bad way. She'd ask me if I thought it was okay to date someone who was seven years younger than me. Then she'd probably give me an hour-long lecture about how you should be treated with respect and should not be taken advantage of and for me to be proper with you," Charlie finished.

"Proper with me? I don't understand what that means," Hermione stated.

At this, Charlie's face and neck flashed again as he diverted his eyes away from Hermione and over to a distant tree in the opposite direction.

"Charlie," Hermione called out once.

When he didn't respond, she huffed and reiterated, "Charlie."

"Yes," he asked, though his head was still turned in the reverse direction from where Hermione was.

"Can you first look at me?"

Ever so slowly, he turned back to face her, though his eyes burned like beating sirens.

"What did you mean about being proper with me," Hermione questioned again.

Charlie let out a deep sigh as he opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again.

"Don't panic," he started in a sluggish manner, "but it means don't…don't sleep around before marriage."

As the impact of what Charlie was saying hit Hermione, she felt her eyes grow wide as saucers, big enough to direct traffic control onto.

"Do you mean…sex," Hermione inquired, whispering the word 'sex.'

Charlie laughed loudly, his chest shaking with mirth. He slammed his fists upon the rock they were sitting on, as another wind kicked into gear, joining in on his merriment.

"Hermione, Hermione," he said in between bouts of joviality and holding his stomach, "you're going to kill me one day!"

"What, what did I say," she asked in a defensive tone.

"It's just how you said 'sex.' Coming from you, it sounded like some medieval punishment," he replied, his cheeks flushed from his laugher.

"Well I never really talked about it before," she erected, "I mean, it's not a passing conversation to have with your parents during a Sunday tea."

"I know, I know," Charlie said, enveloping Hermione again, "sex isn't a bad thing, but mum's old school, meaning that she thinks a couple should wait until they're married to have sex."

"What do you think about that," Hermione queried.

Charlie shrugged his shoulders as he said, "It's her own beliefs, something that I don't totally agree with and haven't followed. With that being said, I can't say that I have a problem with couples who choose to abstain until marriage."

Hermione nodded her head in understanding before she supplied, "I think my mum and dad would agree with your mum."

"Are they old school, too?"

"Not really, but I know how they are," Hermione replied. "I remember my parents telling me that they tried to have children for a while but couldn't. Just before they were reading to give up hope and were looking to adopt, my mum became pregnant with me. They called me 'the miracle child.'"

Hermione looked up at Charlie who was smiling fondly at her tale.

"Actually," Hermione went on, "I never told anyone this but I've always wanted a younger sibling."

"You want one of mine," Charlie asked, "I have plenty to give away."

Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"I'm being serious," she said, though a small smirk played over her features.

"Well did your mum and dad only want one kid," he requested.

"I don't know for sure; I never asked. But they did try for a long time just for one, and my mum was nearly past her child-bearing years when I was born, so maybe the opportunity just wasn't there."

"No matter if they wanted a second child or not, they hit the jackpot with you," Charlie commented softly.

"So many kind sentiments this morning, Charlie," Hermione said.

"True sentiments, no doubt," he echoed.

Hermione laughed quietly before she questioned, "And what are your thoughts on having a family? Didn't you tell me before that you wanted one?"

"I do but I just don't like when I'm being pressured into having one, namely by my mum. It's like I already said, right after Bill announced that Fleur was pregnant, mum turned her attention on me. I mean, you've seen the date that she set me up on already and that's not even counting the previous ones she's handled for me. She never gives up, I'll give her credit for that, but it's tiring, dodging all of her questions and nagging about marrying before growing old, and rubbish like that. I don't even think I want what she defines as 'family.'"

"What she defines as a family," Hermione repeated, making Charlie nod his head. "I don't think I follow."

"It's like this: many people think that a family is two people and a couple of kids, two of three at least. But I don't know if I want any kids at all."

"You don't want any kids," Hermione replicated again.

"I don't think I want any kids," Charlie corrected. "It's not something that crosses my mind whenever I think of having a family of my own. Mum, of course, would probably destroy half of Devon in spell fire if I ever told her that."

"Well, there's no rulebook saying that just because two people are married that they have to have children," Hermione agreed, "if you don't want any, then you don't want any."

"I'm glad we're on the same page," Charlie suggested, shooting Hermione a charming smile.

"I didn't say that I never wanted any children," Hermione stated, quirking up a brow at the second-oldest Weasley son.

"You want children of your own, then," he questioned.

"I never gave it a great deal of thought, but I think it was always just expected of me to have at least one child. Although, I never thought about what it would cost to have one of my own. I mean, you see families and children all the time, and in our heads, we just put the two together like it's normal. Now that we know better, that you don't have to have kids in order to be a family, our way of thinking has changed," Hermione voiced.

"Hmph," Charlie proclaimed, "I never thought about it like that before."

"It's just an observation," Hermione pointed out, shrugging her shoulders against Charlie's side.

"Quite a pragmatic observation, actually," Charlie relayed back at her. "But whenever I think of marrying the woman I love, I don't want our relationship to be weighed down upon bearing children. And knowing the genes I come from, I wouldn't be surprised if the Weasley family tripled in size by the time every one of us has settled down."

"Well, maybe some of your siblings don't want any kids like you," Hermione suggested.

"Maybe," Charlie replied, "though mum, and to a certain extent, dad, has always tossed around the word 'grandbabies' a fair few times in passing, especially to me, Bill, and Percy. My brothers actually think that I'm never going to marry; Fred and George have started betting on it, actually."

"I don't think there's anything wrong with that," Hermione said.

Charlie turned his eyes towards her and questioned, "You don't think there's anything wrong with Fred and George betting on if I'll ever get married?"

"What? No, no, I meant that there's nothing wrong if you, or anybody else never gets married. It's a big decision and commitment to make to one person."

"You're right but it's like you said before: marriage is kind of expected of us at some point in time, don't you think? I mean, I think I would feel somewhat left behind if everyone else got married and I didn't. Friends started their own tribe, yet here I am, alone," Charlie told her.

"Well, you shouldn't start a family just because everyone else is doing it. But I don't think you'll ever be alone, Charlie," Hermione voiced, "you'll have your friends still and you already have a big family."

"What about you?"

"What about me," Hermione asked.

"Will you still be with me? Us against the world type of thing?"

"Do you mean with you like we are now, or just as friends?"

"Hermione, you're not already trying to break up with me, are you," Charlie joked, the corners of his mouth turning upward, making Hermione mirror his actions.

"I can't tell the future, Charlie," she said quietly, "but I do like you…a lot."

"I like you a lot too," he responded, leaning closer towards her.

As another wind swept over them, rippling Charlie's shirt in a small waves over his torso while wrestling with Hermione's bushy locks, a small _POP_ was suddenly heard, making both Charlie and Hermione look towards the source of noise.

They hurried to their feet, both drawing their wands on instinct, as they scrambled out of Amata, walking out from between its trees, as Charlie tucked the Daily Prophet in the back pocket of his jeans and pushed Hermione behind him, shielding her of any advances this interloper might throw at her.

Charlie and Hermione saw a figure dressed in neat clothes walking towards the Burrow. To Hermione, something about this person seemed familiar.

"Terrance," Charlie called out, in more of a question than an exclamation.

The figure whipped around, as Hermione saw Terrance wearing a curious expression on his face.

"Charlie, Hermione," he called out with a wide smile, as the two parties started to make their ways towards one another.

"Terrance, what are you doing here," Charlie questioned.

"Well good morning to you too," he shot back, inclining his head towards Hermione in a gentlemanly way.

"I-We just didn't expect you," Charlie explained.

"'We' now, is it," Terrance sounded off, "what, are you two like together or something?"

"Something like that," Hermione answered, making Charlie shoot off a smirk towards her.

Terrance scoffed before he said, "I came to see if you two want to head over to the Ministry together. We have to be there by nine."

Charlie looked down at his wrist, looking at his watch's display.

"We still have a good hour before we have to leave," Charlie noted, "but since you're already here, I guess I can cook us something to eat for breakfast."

"You know you have to change, right," Terrance asked, looking up at down at Charlie's form as the three bodies started heading back towards the towering structure of the Burrow. "We have to make ourselves look presentable," Terrance continued on, "by not wearing dirty t-shirts and jeans."

"I was going to change," Charlie elected, "I just don't like waltzing around in those fancy garbs."

"Fancy garbs," Terrance teased in a question-like manner. "Charlie, you're not going to a wedding; you're just attending a meeting with important officials. Clothes like mine will do."

Hermione looked over at Terrance and saw that he was wearing a black, button-down dress shirt, tucked into black slacks.

"Besides, the birds like guys who take an interest in keeping up with their appearances, right Hermione," Terrance queried.

"Um," Hermione started, not entirely sure if she, herself, would agree with Terrance's assessment, "some do, yeah."

"See what I mean," Terrance finished, thumping Charlie on the chest with the back of his hand.

Terrance then walked on, leaving Charlie and Hermione in his trail.

"He's on something else this morning," Charlie commented quietly, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

"There's probably a whole nest of 'birds' he's trying to impress at the Ministry," Hermione relayed, making Charlie stuff his knuckles against his mouth to keep from laughing aloud.

"Come on, let's go," he then offered, grabbing Hermione's hand in his and squeezing it, as they following Terrance towards the home.

Gray clouds continued to roll overhead, ushering in the threat of rainfall at any singular moment. Hermione huddled closer to Charlie as another bout of wind overran them, making her shiver slightly with cold.

"How long do you think this meeting is going to take," Terrance suddenly asked, turning around to face the pair. However, before they could answer, his eyes lighted up, as he pointed his finger and said, "So you two are together!"

Charlie and Hermione looked at one another before they returned their gazes back towards him.

"Well we didn't deny it," Charlie voiced, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yeah but you didn't admit to it either," Terrance shot back.

"So," Charlie replied, "what's the big deal?"

"Hey, I didn't say I had a problem with it," Terrance offered, holding up both of his hands in retreat, "I just never thought I'd see another day where Charlie Weasley found himself someone else to settle down with."

"Calm down, Terrance, we're only dating," Charlie acquiesced.

"Yeah, well that's how they all start out, right? You date, then you marry, then out pops several kids, and then it's all over," he responded straightforwardly, "simple, easy, and done."

"You seem to have life figured out, don't you," Charlie challenged.

"I like to think so."

"Then where's your girl? Where's the one you'll be doing life with?"

"Somewhere," Terrance answered calmly, looking up at the cloudy sky, "I just haven't found her yet. But she's definitely somewhere."

As Charlie gave Hermione a pointed look, Terrance suddenly proposed, "Promise me something, Charlie, yeah? When you and Hermione get married, let me be your best man?"

Charlie scoffed as he brushed past Terrance's smiling face, Hermione's hand still embraced with his.

As the pair entered the kitchen, followed closely by Terrance, their eyes fell upon Mrs. Weasley, who was bustling around the area, flinging her wand at random objects and food, quietly muttering to herself.

Upon hearing the front door being opened, Mrs. Weasley stopped at her tasks and laid eyes upon Charlie, Hermione, and Terrance, the former of who quickly let go of Hermione's hand, making Terrance snigger none too quietly.

"Mum," Charlie breathed out, a slight blush pooling across the base of his neck.

"I was wondering where you and Hermione had gone off to," Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, waving everyone forward, "well have a seat! Breakfast will be ready shortly!"

As Charlie and Hermione took their seats at the table next to one another, giving each other shy smirks, Terrance walked forward and said, "It's good to see you, Mrs. Weasley."

"It's Terrance, right," she said back to him, giving him a wide smile.

"That's right."

"Goodness, the last time I saw you, you were just a little boy!"

"Mum, Terrance has been over many summers while we were at Hogwarts together," Charlie said, rolling his eyes.

Mrs. Weasley directed her gaze at her second-oldest son, whom she had seen roll his eyes, saying, "Yes, as I said: little boys."

Terrance took a seat across from the pair as Mrs. Weasley turned back towards the sizzling stove that was emitting sweet puffs of aromas that floated around the kitchen, filling the nostrils of the occupants seated nearby, making goofy smiles spread over their features as their stomachs rumbled in protest.

"So what do you three have planned for today," Mrs. Weasley suddenly asked, not turning away from her wand-waving and cooking, "I certainly didn't expect Terrance to stop by after all these years."

"Sorry for the intrusion," Terrance called out.

"Oh nonsense; don't be silly! You're a friend of Charlie's, and therefore, a friend of the family's!"

"We have some business to take care of at the Ministry around nine," Charlie told his mother, "dragon-related stuff."

It was then that Hermione remembered that neither she nor Charlie had told his family about the escaped dragon they had captured yesterday.

"Is it with that business you all went through back in Romania with those dragon poachers," Mrs. Weasley asked, turning away from the stove, resting her hands on her hips.

"That's part of it," Charlie phrased.

"As there very well should be! There should be a full inquiry how one those men could even get on the reserve in the first place! And then, to attack workers who were just doing their jobs…you three could've been seriously injured," Mrs. Weasley cried out, letting her thoughts and emotions of that event spillover her borders to let it bleed out in public.

"Well, Phillip is still in the hospital," Hermione said, making all eyes turn towards her. "He's quite injured."

"Did any of the healers saying anything to you about Phillip before you left St. Mungo's," Charlie asked, directing his attention across the table at Terrance.

"No," he replied, shaking his head back and forth, "I mean, I checked out pretty late last night."

"Hang on a moment," Hermione interrupted, "Terrance, did you see the Daily Prophet this morning?"

"No," he said again, "I haven't gotten the chance to. Why?"

Hermione looked at Charlie as he pulled the crunched-up paper from his back pocket and handed it over to him.

Terrance unfurled the paper in a loud manner, just as the stove hissed behind them.

Charlie and Hermione watched Terrance, trying to gauge his reaction as he took in the news of the death that took place on the same ward he and Phillip had been on.

"Is this serious," he asked, setting the paper down after he had finished reading the article, a startled expression plastered over his facial features. "The dragon poacher is dead?"

Hearing this, Mrs. Weasley whipped around, a swath of her hair slapping one side of her face, as she said, "What happened?"

Charlie sighed audibly as he grabbed the Daily Prophet from Terrance and handed it over to his mother.

"Oh dear," she whispered, "Is this one of the men that attacked you back in Romania?"

"No," Charlie answered, "we found him when we went back to Romania to bring back the Romanian Longhorn after it escaped from the reserve."

"Do you mean to tell me," Mrs. Weasley started, as Hermione thought that she was barely suppressing building anger within her voice, "that you went back to Romania after you were attacked by dragon poachers?"

Charlie sighed again, though this time, he refrained from rolling his eyes, as he said, "Mum, part of my job requires for me to bring back rogue dragons. We can't just have them frolicking away in the Carpathian Mountains."

Hermione saw Mrs. Weasley purse her lips together as she remained quiet on the matter.

"How was that, Charlie, bringing back the Romanian Longhorn," Terrance asked, both of his brows raised upward.

"Different from all the times when we did it," Charlie supplied back to him, making Terrance grin.

Then, plates piled high with food glided over to the kitchen table, plunking down before its dwellers with resounding _thumps_ that seemed to be louder than normal.

"Thanks Mrs. Weasley," Hermione and Terrance chorused together.

"Thanks Mum," Charlie added in.

"Well, you should all eat a healthy breakfast before your due at the Ministry," she stated, taking a seat at the table next to Terrance.

During their meal, Charlie and Terrance started to trade stories on which dragon escapade was the most dangerous, much to the detriment of Mrs. Weasley, whose face flashed from anger to nervousness to grief-stricken as the tales continued on.

Hermione listened in, while eating away at her food. While she thought that bringing back the Romanian Longhorn was a dangerous mission, clearly, Charlie and Terrance's stories outpaced hers by several miles, all the way from one dragon raining down hell-fire on a small, Muggle village, onto where another pair of beasts that entangled in a tag-team match against Ukrainian Ironbelly sisters.

However, out of the corner of her eye, Hermione noticed that even though Mrs. Weasley was looking as if she was on the verge of having a panic attack at the narratives Charlie and Terrance were supplying, the Weasley mother more than once fixated her eyes upon Charlie and Hermione sitting side-by-side.

Thinking back to when they first entered the kitchen, Hermione also thought that Mrs. Weasley caught a glimpse of Charlie and Hermione's hands clasped together.

If it was up to Hermione, she wouldn't mind telling the Weasley family of her and Charlie's relationship. Yet, she did sympathize with why Charlie wanted to keep it a secret for the time being, especially from the prying eyes of his mother. No matter what though, at this point in time, Hermione couldn't be any happier than she was (even with all of the morbidity surrounding her) with Charlie next to her.

Being with someone, someone that she was now romantically linked to, made Hermione happy. Before, it was books and the smell of fresh parchment that overwhelmed her senses, as she cowered behind thick tomes and quills dipped in ink, accepting the fact that maybe she wasn't destined to end up with a significant other.

However, Charlie's presence had banished that idea serenely, as he took up the mantle for being Hermione's partner, even though he had revealed to her that he didn't believe he was good enough. It still made Hermione wonder why Charlie would even have that train of thought chugging though his head; to her, it just didn't seem plausible for him to think like that.

As Charlie and Terrance finished their breakfast, Terrance said, "You still have to change, Charlie."

"Yes, mother," he replied acidly, stressing the word 'mother.'

"He is right, dear," Mrs. Weasley chimed in, "you can't go to the Ministry looking like that. And really, Charlie, where on earth did you get that shirt so dirty?"

"From my drawers," he answered morosely, giving Hermione a look of 'help me!'

"Well it looks as if you rolled it around in the dirt before putting it on," Mrs. Weasley tested.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Weasley, I'll help Charlie pick out a suitable outfit for the day's affairs," Terrance announced. "Come on, Charlie, we don't have much time left."

As Mrs. Weasley stood to her feet and walked over to the sink, Charlie, taking note of his mother's position, bent down, and kissed Hermione quickly on her forehead, whispering, "We won't be long."

With that, the two scuttled out of the kitchen, marching up the rickety staircase, each step squeaking loudly under their weight.

"Hermione, did you want some tea, dear," Mrs. Weasley asked, breaking Hermione out of her thoughts of her previous nocturnal activities with Charlie.

"Oh, um, yes, I'd love some tea," she replied with a smile.

Some minutes later, Mrs. Weasley levitated over two cups of steaming tea, one for Hermione and the other for herself.

"It's best when it's hot, dear," Mrs. Weasley offered with a smile, as she settled back in her seat across from Hermione at the kitchen table.

After both took sips of their teas, Mrs. Weasley asked, "How are you, Hermione?"

When Hermione gave her a curious look, Mrs. Weasley went on, "I think it's safe to say that you've had a busy past couple of days."

A small smile slipped over Hermione's features as she answered, "I've had busy days before."

As a soft chuckle issued out of Mrs. Weasley, Hermione said, "I'm fine, really. The life of a dragon tamer is much more different than I thought it was. Of course, I've read about their careers and job descriptions before, but it's like a whole other world when you see it with your own eyes. The other workers back on the reserve in Romania have been really warm and welcoming and the dragons there are just so captivating."

When Hermione finished, Mrs. Weasley was looking at her with a twinkle in her eye.

"You sound so much like Charlie when he first came back from the dragon reserve in Romania," she relayed with a certain fondness in her voice, something which slightly confused Hermione, as she had thought that Charlie's mother didn't particularly like him working with the creatures.

"I know what you're thinking dear," the Weasley matriarch uttered after another sip of tea, "everyone thinks that I hate the fact that Charlie works with dragons, I can see it on your face. The fact of the matter is I don't hate Charlie's job; quite the opposite, I actually think it's a fascinating career path. I just don't like being so far away from him when he is danger working with dragons every day. A mother wants to nurture her children, and to always make sure that they feel safe – that's one of the biggest challenges in this world that we are now living in. Everyday bring about potential threats that gives all parents alike night terrors, and truthfully, nothing ever really alleviates the trepidation of what could happen to one of your own.

"Charlie, no matter how big and strong he might think he is, is still my little boy. I can still see him running around the kitchen, thumping across its floorboards, or sneaking out in the middle of the night for a quick broomstick ride around the orchard. He never really had a great fear of anything, nothing like Ron and his spiders. Charlie seems to grow and mature so much every time I see him, which hasn't been all that much over the past couple of years."

Hermione smiled at Mrs. Weasley descriptions of a young Charlie. She imagined a little boy, shorter than that of his other siblings, with a mess of fiery red hair sitting atop his head, while his sea-blue eyes enchanted anyone who dared to stare at them. She pictured a boy who was both wild, yet tame when he had to be, someone who was daring, but also cared for others around him.

"You're fond of him, aren't you dear," Mrs. Weasley suddenly asked, looking over at her with a kind gaze.

Hermione was taken-aback at her acute observations, with her mind racing back to when she and Charlie had first entered into the kitchen that morning holding each other's hand.

"W-Well," Hermione started with a stammer, mentally wanting to smack herself, "C-Charlie's the only Weasley I haven't spent much time with…until now. But he's kind, and he's just so different from everyone else. Many people think of me as a serious bookworm, who would hex anyone that dirtied the pages of one of my books. With Charlie, it's not like that; he makes me feel relaxed and safe; it's like he listens and cares about what I have to say. I just never really met anyone like him before," she finished with a small whisper.

When Hermione was speaking, she felt a revelation sweep through her, melting into her bones and framing that of her consciousness; it was a disclosure that she was missing her mother. Talking about boys and undercover romances was something Hermione had always envisioned with talking about with her mum, a mum who was all the way over in Australia, within the city limits of Sydney, someone who wouldn't even bat any eyelash if she saw Hermione on its streets.

Yet, it seemed as if Mrs. Weasley was channeling her mother qualities when she was talking with Hermione; conversations that she may have had or have not had with Ginny during the summer and winter months. Talking about Charlie with Mrs. Weasley seemed so domestic and rational, with undertakings of 'weird' and 'awkward' being lost against a thousand days of night.

"Charlie's a good friend," Hermione said at last, as she had still decided to honor Charlie's wishes and not spill their relationship to his mother, though Hermione had an inkling that she might already know.

Mrs. Weasley chuckled again as she stated, "I think my Charlie has a fair bit more than friendship on his mind when looking at you, Hermione; I can see it in his eyes."

At this, Hermione's cheeks flushed as her eyes wandered back down towards her half-drunk tea clasped between her two hands.

"Charlie's a good boy," Mrs. Weasley cajoled. "Even though I know he's happy with his work with dragons, I also want him to be satisfied with his personal life, with people he is closest to. I want him to live life to the fullest and without any regrets."

As Hermione smiled at her words, Mrs. Weasley suddenly changed directions and said, "Well, I assume that you too want to get changed before you have to leave for the Ministry so I won't keep you here any longer."

Mrs. Weasley and Hermione both stood to their feet, as the former waved her wand to have both teacups fly over to the sink.

Just before Hermione departed from the kitchen, she hesitated a bit. Turning to look over her shoulder, she softly called out, "Mrs. Weasley?"

Mrs. Weasley looked over at her expectantly, as she said, "Thank you, and thanks for the tea."

Without waiting a second longer, Hermione turned back around and headed up the staircase, minding the creaking that was issuing forth, bouncing around the nooks and crannies of the older home.

Parting on the first landing, Hermione gently turned the knob into Ginny's room, and quietly stepped inside upon hearing Charlie and Terrance's voices from up above.

With the door clicking shut behind her, Hermione passed Ginny's bed (where the youngest Weasley had all but disappeared under her mess of blankets and pillows) and over to her trunk. Digging through to find garments that looked both sophisticated yet professional, Hermione tugged on a white blouse that pulled down to her forearms and a matching dark blue skirt that hugged her knees. Hermione then crept back out of the room and into the single bathroom, waving her wand, making her brown hair presentable to the public eye with a simple spell she had taught herself the weeks following the end of the war.

After she finished, she looked at herself in the mirror and gave a simple nod at her appearance. While Hermione was never one to particularly pay close attention to how she looked when she was younger, being older and holding a professional job with the Ministry of Magic gave her a sense of looking smart while also understanding the ethical dilemmas women faced in the workplace, even in the wizarding world.

As Hermione exited the bathroom, she suddenly felt as if she had run into a brick wall that knocked her backwards. Feeling her feet dance upon the air, strong arms suddenly stilled her, as she looked up to see Charlie blushing furiously.

"Sorry about that," he muttered as he righted Hermione. "You look great, by the way. It's something with your hair, am I right?"

Hermione smirked and told him, "It's just a simple charm I learned. And by the way, you don't look so bad yourself. I guess Terrance does have any eye for what interests women with guys who keep up with their appearances."

Charlie scoffed, before he shook his and rolled his eyes as Hermione saw that he was wearing a gray-collared shirt that was neatly tucked into black slacks, paired off with black shoes.

"Don't you think that shirt is too small for you though," Hermione questioned, taking note of his bulging biceps that seemed to be straining the shirt seams apart.

"I actually think it looks quite good on me," Charlie pouted lightly, rotating his arms in a circular fashion.

"It looks good, just a bit small," Hermione responded.

As Charlie smiled, he then grabbed both of her hands in his, and asked, "I was thinking that after we're finished at the Ministry, you and I could go on a little adventure."

"Adventure," Hermione queried, tilting her head to one side. "What do you mean by that?"

"There's this place that I like to go to where I'm positive almost no one knows about."

"What is it," Hermione asked, her interest peaking.

"A lake," Charlie answered, a bit gingerly, as if Hermione wouldn't like the idea of traveling out to a lake. "It's here, in Devon. Did you think you might want to go?"

"Charlie, before it looked as if it was going to rain any second," Hermione challenged.

"Oh," he said, "that's right, I forgot Hermione Granger was afraid of getting wet."

Hermione felt her mouth drop open as Charlie's face scrunched up in oncoming laughter.

As his smile grew wider and wider, Hermione replied, "Oh, you think you're so funny, don't you?"

"Of course I am, but the look on your face was priceless," he told her, as his shoulders started to shake with bits of glee.

"Well, as it turns out, I don't think Hermione Granger does mind getting a bit wet," she stated.

"And that's only if it rains," Charlie piped up.

After the two stared at one another, Charlie finalized with a bit more seriousness, "So did you want to check it out? We don't have to stay long if you don't like it."

"I'd love to go with you, Charlie," Hermione answered, giving him a smile.

Just as Charlie opened his mouth to say something else, a voice that belonged to Terrance suddenly intervened, "What an odd place to have a snogging session: in the doorway of a loo."

Charlie and Hermione sprung apart, neither one realizing how close they had drawn together during their short conversation.

Hermione looked from Terrance to Charlie, the former of which seemed as if he was silently groaning.

"Anyway, are you kids ready to go? It's nearly nine," Terrance told them.

Charlie looked down at his own watch and nodded his head.

"You're right," Charlie said, looking at Hermione, "we should get going. Let me use the loo first."

Some minutes later, Charlie joined Hermione and Terrance outside of the Burrow, taking special note of the still-cloudy sky. He grinned over at Hermione as the three then turned on the spot, disappearing with three quiet _POPS's_ and a hopeful Mrs. Weasley who had watched them go from the kitchen window.


	16. A Nest of Vipers

Chapter 16: A Nest of Vipers

Warning: This chapter contains material meant for mature readers.

Nervousness flooded into the pit of Hermione's stomach, churning with the food she had ate for breakfast not even one hour ago. She was sitting in a rather large room within the Ministry of Magic, adorned with a large, polished wood table in its center, in which seven comfortable-looking chairs were seated around. One of the dark, square-paneled walls had a picture of a dragon attached to its surface, while its opposite had a large painting of a body of water filled with an active community of merpeople, complete with a cave and even a village square.

On one side of the table, Hermione sat to the right of Charlie while Terrance sat on his other. They were alone in the room that Darren McGill had led them into some minutes before, as they silently waited for their line of questioning that was to be directed in accordance with the dragon poachers and their skirmish back in Woan.

Hermione had her hands clasped together, resting down in her lap, though every other moment, she would find herself wringing one of her fingers with immense force, as lurches of anxiousness crashed over her. The root of the problem, in her mind, was that the dragon poachers attack was more of an international occurrence, one in which even the Romanian Minster was roped into. And whilst she supported international magical cooperation, the words of Charlie rang loud in her ears when he said that 'politics is a very dangerous game to play.'

Yet, even political endeavors were not of a foreign favor to her, as being best friends with Harry Potter in the midst of Voldemort's reign of terror upon Wizarding Britain had their own Ministry of Magic knocking upon the front door of the Burrow one Christmastime, asking Harry to be some sort of poster boy, showing his support for a ruling body that had chastised him for over a year for proclaiming the truth.

"Are you alright, Hermione," Charlie's low voice asked suddenly, startling her a bit.

She turned and saw that concern was etched upon his facial features, as he leaned in close to her.

"Yes, yes I'm fine," she said a little too quickly, as Charlie quirked up a brow at her.

"We don't have anything to be nervous about," he continued on, "we know our story and what happened. We tell it to whoever is going to question us and then we can leave."

"Besides," Terrance chirped in, "we're all innocent. It was those bloody poachers that attacked us and we gave chase, seeing that they stole several of our dragon eggs."

"Yes, but you know how the Romanian Unitary Magical Republic is; they're sensitive to these kinds of attacks that happen on their own soil," Charlie challenged. "In their eyes, we might be just as guilty seeing that we nearly destroyed half of Woan in the process of trying to capture the poachers."

"They wouldn't criminally charge us, would they," Hermione asked, a lace of fear seeping through her own words.

Both Charlie and Terrance looked over at her as the former answered, "I don't think they legally can. You see, witches and wizards are legal residents of a country in which they identify as their home. For example, I consider England to be my home, and therefore, I'm a resident of it. In the magical realm, foreign ministries have no jurisdiction to charge residents of another country under any sort of crime, except those that a ministry deems superior, which in the case of most ministries means murder."

Hermione nodded in understanding at Charlie's words, though she didn't feel entirely satisfied with how things might turn out when they were questioned.

Suddenly, the door to the room they were in opened, as Hermione, Charlie, and Terrance all turned to see its new entrants. Leading the pack walked a tall, lanky man whom Hermione had never seen before. He was wearing silver gray wizards' robes that looked more as if he was wearing a blanket rather than clothing garments. He had steely gray eyes, in which hints of yellow were thrown in, while his receding dark brown hair was combed backward on his head in thin wisps. This man led a very short man over to a chair, opposite that of Hermione's. The shorter man was wearing purple and gold robes, while a bright red bowler hat sat atop his head with two gold feathers sticking from its top, partial obscuring his wavy brown hair that stretched down to the middle of his back. The shorter man had a very stern-looking face about him, as he sat down in the chair he was led to and eyed Hermione, Charlie, and Terrance with mistrust. Ending the group was McGill and Director Mulligan.

"Good morning Miss Hermione Granger, Mr. Charlie Weasley, and Mr. Terrance Wriley," the lanky man said, as McGill and Director Mulligan took seats across the table from Terrance. "My name is Morlen Sprought, and I am the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, who unfortunately could not be here today."

Upon his introduction, Charlie jerked weirdly in his seat, making Hermione want to shoot a curious glance over to him, yet did not in order to now drawn attention to him. Hermione, however, had a sliver of remembrance to the name 'Sprought.' She knew she heard it somewhere before, but couldn't place it. Pondering seconds more on it, she thought she heard it from -,

"Today should be fairly straightforward," Sprought continued when he didn't receive any morning sentiments in return, "I will ask you all a series of questions pertaining to what happened with the poachers that infiltrated the dragon reserve in Romania and your accompany story in Woan. The Romanian Minster, Minister Veceslav Gabor, is anxiously waiting to hear what happened, seeing that Woan was left in ruins," Sprought explained, gesturing towards the short man to his left, who was still shooting sour looks at Hermione, Charlie, and Terrance.

Sprought then waved his wand in a short motion, as a second later, a stack of parchment along with a green-feathered quill appeared in front of Minister Gabor.

"Since Minister Gabor does not speak any English, he'll be using a quill decoder to keep track of what is being said. Now are there any questions," Sprought asked.

When no one said anything, Sprought nodded once, sat down in his seat, and announced, "Then, let's begin."

With his words, Hermione sat up straighter in her seat as out of the corner of her eye, she saw Charlie give her a strange look.

"The dragon eggs of a Chinese Fireball, a Hungarian Horntail, and a Hebridean Black were all reported stolen. Who would like to start in telling me what happened on the night the poachers infiltrated the dragon reserve in Romania," Sprought asked, turning to look at the three in questioning. While he spoke, the quill decoder conjured for Minister Gabor vibrated as small golden sparks shot out of its end as it started to write away upon the parchment, translating what was being said into Romanian.

"I can start," Charlie offered, nodding his head once.

"Mr. Weasley, is that right," Sprought asked.

"Yes. Hermione and I were on the graveyard shift with Phillip-,"

"Phillip," Sprought interrupted right away, "who is Phillip?"

"He's another reserve worker who couldn't be here today," Director Mulligan intervened. "He's still nursing injuries back at St. Mungo's."

"And what is Phillip's last name, Muligan," Sprought asked, as Hermione noticed that while speaking to the reserve director, Sprought did not even look his way.

"Soren, Phillip Soren."

"Okay," Sprought addressed, nodding towards his own quill who started to scratch away certain notes, "Mr. Phillip Soren will need to be brought to the Ministry as soon as he's released from St. Mungo's under questioning. Continue on, Mr. Weasley."

"Right. Well, Hermione and I were on the graveyard shift with Phillip in the Alarm pen. It was early in the morning, somewhere around five would be my guess. Hermione and I were talking when we heard a noise only to find that Philip had disappeared."

"And what were you and Miss Granger talking about," Sprought asked, looking over at Charlie with a penetrating gaze.

Charlie's cheeks flashed a bright red, matching the color of his short hair, as Hermione remembered that that was the night where she divulged to Charlie her feelings for him. For his part, Charlie didn't readily accept Hermione's romantic feelings, not because he didn't share the same sentiments towards her, but thought that she deserved better.

Hermione looked over at Charlie and saw that he was incredibly uncomfortable.

He sighed, saying, "We were talking about-,"

"Dragon mating," Hermione interrupted, saving Charlie from announcing their relationship to people that Hermione thought Charlie would not even spare a second thought to tell, sans Terrance.

"Dragon mating," Sprought repeated, now looking over at Hermione with a steely gaze, clearly not believing her.

"Yes, dragon mating," Hermione replied in a firm voice, one that didn't quaver or stammer.

Sprought quirked up an eyebrow at her before he turned back to Charlie and instructed, "Go on."

"Well, when we realized Phillip had disappeared, we went looking for him. We found him in the trees surrounding the Alarm pen."

"How did you know to look for Mr. Soren within the trees, Mr. Weasley? Surely, these pens are larger than what the naked eye could scan ever so quickly," Sprought questioned.

"Hermione and I saw Phillip by the trees some time before, and since it wouldn't be likely that Phillip fell into one the dragon pens, we thought to go searching for him in there," Charlie responded back, an edge to his voice. "He was reading a book that Hermione got him for his birthday."

"And what book was that," Sprought queried over to Hermione.

"It was called _10,001 Facts about Dragons: A Guide of Intelligence to Understanding their World and Perceptions_ ," she stated.

After his quill and Minister Gabor's quill dashed quickly over their respective parchments, Sprought repeated, "Go on," waving one his hands in the air.

"We found him tied against a tree with barbed wire; it looked as if he had been beaten. That was also the time when we received a patronus message from Terrance, informing us that poachers were on the reserve and to meet him in the Center of Directions, a pavilion located just before the dragon pens," Charlie relayed.

"Stop right there," Sprought said, as he then turned to Terrance and asked, "Now Mr. Wriley, you tell me your turn of events up until you sent your patronus message to Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger."

Terrance shifted in his seat, emitting loud squeaks that bounced around the room, before he started, "I was working in the Primitive pen with Anthony-,"

However, Sprought intervened and asked, "Who is Anthony?"

"He's also another worker, Anthony Daniels," Terrance answered.

"And what is the nature of Mr. Daniels' condition that he couldn't be here today," Sprought interrogated.

"He's dead," Director Mulligan supplied in an icy tone, glaring over at Sprought who still wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Continue on, Mr. Wriley," Sprought told Terrance, ignoring any reaction that might have been made in honor of one of the workers' fallen comrade.

"I think it was slightly before five in the morning when Anthony informed me that he saw movements within the trees. We both went into the forest and saw foot tracks, two sets of them."

"Did you see or hear anything else whilst in the woods," Sprought questioned.

"No…nothing," Terrance said, shaking his head slightly from side to side. "It was then that I sent my patronus message to Charlie, Hermione, and Phillip, and also to Claude and Marcus, two other workers who were in the Tepid pen, to meet Anthony and I in the Center of Directions so that we could work out a plan to capture the poachers."

"Claude and Marcus," Sprought started, staring at no one in particular, "what is the nature of the two?"

"Deceased," McGill announced in a sad tone. Hermione looked over at him and saw that he kept shooting nervous glances over at Sprought and at Director Mulligan, the latter of whom seemed to be trying to burn a hole in Sprought's head with his own two eyes.

"Very well, Mr. Wriley, continue," Sprought positioned.

"Shortly after we all had gathered into the Center of Directions, the poachers caught us off guard and attacked us," Terrance replied.

"How many poachers were there," Sprought asked.

"Two," Terrance said.

"Are you telling me that two poachers outmatched one witch and six wizards," questioned a ridiculing-sounding Sprought.

Terrance's features instantly hardened, as did that of Director Mulligan's before Hermione inserted, "It's like Terrance said: we were all caught off guard. We were plotting on how best to capture them when they attacked. Also, Phillip was so badly injured that he wasn't even able to stand on his own two feet, let alone procure defensive enchantments to keep us from harm."

With her words, Sprought's head whipped over to Hermione, leveling her with a glare that told her he did not like her. On the other hand, she spotted Director Mulligan give her a proud smile, while McGill had beads of sweat run down his cheeks. Charlie and Terrance were also staring at Hermione, both in wonder, while the face of Minister Gabor's remained impassive.

"Moving along," Sprought asserted with barely-controlled ferocity, "what happened next."

"The poachers escaped on broomsticks and Terrance, Phillip, Hermione, and I chased after them to Woan," Charlie said.

"Phillip, the man that was so 'gravely injured', flew on broomstick over to Woan," Sprought asked, looking over at Hermione.

"He insisted," she answered.

"Couldn't the poachers just have apparated away from the reserve," Sprought questioned.

At this, Director Mulligan snorted loudly, causing Sprought to give him a cold glare, as Charlie, smiling a bit himself, stated, "You can't apparate to Woan from midnight to six the following morning in order to prevent poachers easy entry and exit in Romania."

"So anyway," Terrance entered in, taking the reins from Charlie, "we followed them to Woan and that was when the fighting started. When I was dueling with one poacher, I saw that he had a dragon egg in one of his pockets. I yelled that over to Phillip as both Charlie and Hermione were fighting the other poacher."

"And how did this melee end," Sprought posted.

"Phillip was hit in the back of the head with a brick, Hermione passed out from pain as a piece of glass was sticking from her leg, while Terrance had a building collapse on him," Charlie stated.

"A building collapsed on you," Sprought investigated, looking over at Terrance.

"Yeah. The poacher Charlie and Hermione had bound didn't have an egg. I went into Exquisite Exhibition, a jewelry store, as that was where the other poacher had been blasted into. Just then, the time turned six o'clock, as the poacher imploded the building," Terrance explained.

"And how did you survive," Sprought questioned, both of his brows raised.

"I apparated out before I was crushed, but splinched my shoulder," he said back.

Silence filled the air of the room as the tale finished, as Hermione saw that Minister Gabor had a stunned expression on his face, as he clearly did not know of the ramifications of what had taken place in Woan that early morning.

"Well, that was quite a rambunctious morning you all endured," Sprought stated, though his tone reflected feelings of boredom. "Is there anything else you wish to tell me before we conclude this questioning?"

"I have something else that I would like to say," Hermione answered, raising her hand slightly. As every head in the room turned towards her, she gulped audibly, and looked over at Charlie, who nodded his head at her in an encouraging manner.

"Back in Woan," she started, her voice quavering slightly over her own remembrance, "one of the poachers told me 'we fight for what doesn't exist.' At the time, I didn't really know what he meant but there have been rumors that some aurors in the Ministry don't believe that the Victorian Shaler actually exists. I think the two are somehow related."

"Are you implying, Miss Granger, that you, yourself, don't believe in the existence of the Victorian Shaler, the reason as to why a new dragon reserve in Wales is being opened for," Sprought asked, with a hint of malice.

"No, not at all," Hermione corrected, "you asked if there was anything else that we wished to tell you and I think that maybe what the poacher told me holds a bit of weight in the investigation. After all, I find it hard to believe that a poacher would say something like that in passing."

"I'll add it to my notes but I have to tell you that I, myself, don't find much meaning in his words," Sprought added on bitterly. "Anything else?"

"There's something that I have to say, but it doesn't have to do with the poachers back in Woan," Charlie piped in.

"Mr. Weasley, we are here to discuss what happened with the poachers and the ensuing skirmish that took place in Woan. Any other unrelated tale mixed in will be dismissed without prejudice as you can schedule another questioning session," Sprought warned.

"I believe it has something with poachers in general, just not the ones we fought in Woan," Charlie furthered.

"Go on, Charlie, tell us what you want to say," Director Mulligan supported, giving him a tight smile.

However, before Charlie could give his report, Sprought turned to face Mulligan and said, "Excuse me, director, but I believe that I am the one with the order in this room for this line of questioning. Who are you to undermine my authority?"

"I'm not undermining anyone's authority, undersecretary. Charlie, one of the main characters in this case, has something to say about poachers, so I say, let's hear it!" Hermione noticed that with each word Director Mulligan spoke, his octave continued to rise.

As Sprought opened his mouth to retort, McGill cut across him and issued, "Go on, Charlie, what else do you have to say?"

As Sprought glared over at Mulligan and McGill in turn, Charlie started, "Hermione and I discovered something when we went to rescue the Romanian Longhorn. The Romanian Longhorn, for your information," Charlie said as he looked over at Sprought, "was somehow released from its pen shortly after we all found ourselves in St. Mungo's. Anyway, on our way to rescue the dragon, Hermione and I crashed in the woods we were flying over and found a house in it."

"A house," Mulligan questioned, his eyes growing wide, as Terrance whipped his head to stare at Charlie incredulously.

"Well, more like a small cottage. I've never seen it before, but it seemed as if it had recently been occupied. There was a fireplace inside of it, which is how I think the poachers got onto the reserve," Charlie continued. "Also, Hermione and I found this."

Charlie reached into one of the pockets of his black slacks and retreated the lone piece of parchment they had both found in the hut. He handed it across the table to Sprought who took it in both of his hands and scanned it, as Mulligan, McGill, and Minister Gabor all leaned in to to do the same.

After a moment of silence, Terrance asked, "What is it?"

"It looks like a quill order of some sort," Mulligan replied.

"Where is the right corner of the document," McGill questioned next, pointing to the missing area where the parchment had been seemingly ripped.

"I don't know," Charlie answered, shaking his head, "that's just how we found it."

Sprought set down the parchment carefully before him as he gazed over at Terrance, then at Hermione, before finally resting his eyes on Charlie.

"Mr. Weasley, do you have any solid evidence that this 'hut' of which you and Miss Granger supposedly found, is used as an entryway for the poachers that infiltrated the dragon reserve," he inquired.

"I don't have solid evidence of that, but how else would these poachers, or any in the past, have gotten on the reserve? There's anti-apparition wards placed over the enclosures all the time. Besides, in Romania, the only two places any witch or wizard can apparate is to Woan, the dragon reserve, and back to Woan again. This makes sense when you put everything together," Charlie noted.

"Ah, but therein lies the problem: we don't have all of the pieces required to make sense of this puzzle that lies before us," Sprought announced, throwing both of his hands into the air, as Hermione took note of his long, bony fingers.

"There were footsteps," Hermione put in, making every head and eyes once again turn towards her. "When Charlie and I crashed in the woods, we saw footsteps and the sound of someone apparating away. I remember hearing it," she finalized.

"I thought Mr. Weasley said that there's anti-apparition wards placed over the dragon enclosures," Sprought assessed.

"And he's quite right," Mulligan agreed, "but there are no such wards placed over the woods surrounding it."

"Oh what nonsense!" Sprought nearly yelled, banging one of his fists against the table. "What blinded troll decided such preposterous measures?!"

Just as he said this, a smaller, yet firmer, _bang_ was heard, as everyone then turned to see Minister Gabor's fist had been the source of the noise. His face was one of a fiery red while he was seething, as it looked as if he was near his own boiling point before reaching scorching, arid levels, enough to rival that of the sun.

"I think, Undersecretary Sprought, you might have insulted Minister Gabor, as it is the Romanian Unitary Magical Republic that institutes such measures over their own populace and country," Mulligan stated, his mouth curling into a vile smile.

"Minister Gabor," Sprought started, as the quill decoder began scratching away at the parchment before him, "I meant no disrespect! The madness of this whole situation is just so befuddling that I spoke before I thought about what I was going to say!"

Hermione looked over at Charlie to see that he was shaking his head at the foolish justification, while beyond him, Terrance had a stony look carved with his features.

Minister Gabor then started rapidly yelling in Romanian, pointing his finger at Sprought, while the red flushing his face never disappeared, but only grew deeper in color. The entire time he was being yelled at, Sprought's mouth was hanging open in both shock and, Hermione guessed, a bit of fear, as Minister Gabor, though he was short in height, had a commanding voiced that boomed around the entire room. He was speaking so fast that Sprought's own quill was unable to keep up, as it hard just started scribbling lines upon his parchment.

"Charlie, Terrance, Hermione, I would like to speak with you all outside for a moment," Director Mulligan said quietly, so as to not to distract Minister Gabor's rant, that seemed as if it was going to take a while for him to get through, which was an unfortunate turn of events for Sprought, though Hermione didn't seem much at all to care.

As the four stepped outside, McGill slowly walked over, trying with some effort to calm Minister Gabor down, which seemed to fall upon death ears.

Softly shutting the door on their exit, the four crowded just outside as Mulligan said, "I want each of you to take the weekend off. On Monday, the new reserve opens in Wales and I want each of you, including Phillip, to be ready for that to happen. You know your positions, and I will personally be on the grounds for the first week of opening. You lot are not in any trouble at all, but I think you all could use a couple of days rest."

"Director, what's going to happen now with the questioning," Charlie asked.

"Well, the buffoon Sprought will submit the notes his quill took to the Auror Department, who will assign a couple of their own with the Magical Law Department to open an investigation. The Romanian Unitary Magical Republic will do the same, yet both parties will work independent of each other. I fear, though, that this raid is something bigger than what I initially thought. I will be doing my own analysis, starting with that cottage you and Miss Granger found in the woods," Mulligan told them. "A starting place could very well be an ending place."

Charlie and Hermione exchanged uncomfortable looks with one another, knowing that the investigation will be out of their own hands, and thrust into two departments, one of which doubted the authenticity of an actual dragon's existence.

"I know you three want to do your own digging yourselves," Mulligan stated, looking particularly at Charlie and Hermione, "I can see it in your faces, but you have to leave this matter to the officials. I'd say right now we're in the clear from Romania and Minister Gabor, but meddling in investigations that cross into foreign territories wouldn't put us in any more favor with international ministries. Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to take a quick trip over to St. Mungo's to check in on Phillip."

With that, Director Mulligan, glaring once more at the door Sprought was still behind, turned on his heel and stalked away from the three of them.

Upon his exit, Terrance turned to Charlie and Hermione with a look of anxiousness engraved throughout his facial features.

"Why didn't you tell me about the house you found in the woods," he inquired, as Hermione thought she saw a fleeting look of betrayal flash in his eyes.

Charlie, a bit taken aback as Terrance's sudden question, blinked twice, before he shrugged his shoulders and said modestly, "I dunno…I guess it just slipped our minds a bit? These past couple of days has been a bit crazy, don't you think?"

"I would've remembered something that important," Terrance countered darkly.

"Well you know about it now so what's the big deal," Charlie asked back.

"Listen, Director Mulligan is right," he started, now looking at Hermione. "There's something with these poachers that is bigger than what it seems. I don't have an explanation, but I can just feel that something else is coming."

"Well Director Mulligan told us to let the authorities handle it," Hermione relayed, folding her arms over her chest absent-mindedly. "I don't think there's anything more that we can do right now."

With her words, a sly smirk slowly stretched its way over his mouth, as he said, "That's what Director Mulligan told us, but I don't see any harm with conducting a small amount of research on our own."

"Actually," Charlie intervened, stepping closer to Hermione and wrapping his arm around her shoulders, "Hermione and I have plans for the rest of the day."

Terrance scoffed as he responded, "Calm down, Weasley, I'm going to try and steal your girl. Besides, I wasn't suggesting that we investigate right now. I have plans of my own, in fact, that I have to attend to."

"Really, and what do your plans entail," Charlie fired back.

"I'm sure there are a few birds that haven't gotten to experience a night with me yet," Terrance replied, rubbing his buzz cut brown hair. "Actually, I've been trying to reconnect with those twin sisters we hooked up with some time ago, Charlie, remember that night," he asked, slapping Charlie in the chest with the back of his hand. "They did some damage to us!"

"I think we'll be going now, Terrance," Charlie suddenly stated, his face a fiery red mask, as he looked distinctly uncomfortable the more Terrance kept talking.

"Sure, sure," Terrance supplied, "but no matter what you may believe, I don't think any guy could ever block out what those sisters can do!"

Charlie, however, didn't react to Terrance's last statement, as he steered Hermione away from him, as they made their way over to the lifts.

Self-destructing thoughts flooded Hermione's mind like rising tides that erode beautiful beaches, as Terrance's words of the 'twin sisters' reverberated through the confines of her very core. The problem Hermione now faced was what if Charlie wanted something more out of their relationship? Since he was older than her by a number of years, perhaps he was more used to his 'hookups' and potential relationships to partake in more adult content, a realm in which Hermione was not exactly comfortable nor experienced in.

And if Charlie really did expect these things out of his relationship with Hermione, how would he react when he found out that she wasn't ready to take their intimacy that far? Would he become bored of her? Would be insist that they explore the passion they harbored for one another? Would he break things off with her in search for a bird that could give him what he wanted?

The pit of Hermione's stomach suddenly melted into a bed of twisted emotions and scarred feelings as her insecurities started to grab hold of her inner being and conscience, conforming it into a ball of dark gravity, a force of nature that would snap Hermione into the dominion of reality in sensing that she wasn't fit to dive into the deepening pools of outward affection.

"Hermione," came Charlie's voice close to her ear as the lift they were in rattled about, "don't pay attention to Terrance. He's just trying to get one up on me."

"It's true though isn't it," she quietly asked him, as he held her side against him, to keep her from flying about.

"What's true?"

"That you and him spent the night with those twin sisters," she narrowed.

"It's true," he said, pain evident in his bright blue eyes, "but not up to the point that Terrance is trying to make it out to be. He's exaggerating things."

Hermione let out a sigh, as Charlie clung to her tighter.

"I'll tell you anything you want to know," he whispered in her ear, as Ministry workers exchanged places into and out of the lift they were riding in.

"Actually, I think something like this would be something I don't wish to know about," Hermione retorted, leaning into his side.

"Okay," Charlie agreed, though Hermione felt that he was incredibly tense. "Did you still want to go to the lake I told you about before?"

Hermione turned up to face him, as she nodded her head and said, "Yeah, I'd still like to go."

Charlie gave her a genuine smile as he leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead.

"I just want to stop by Diagon Alley quickly to grab some food to bring along with us," he stated, as Hermione warmed up to the idea of having a lake-side luncheon.

Hermione smiled at the thought of it, trying to rid herself of the feeling of what Charlie's expectations were of their relationship, and if she could live up to what came before her. Her stomach now resembling a nest of vipers, Hermione wondered how much could she really hold down.

* * *

After picking up a package of food and pastries from _Silver Dining: Meals to Go_ , a small eatery hidden within the alcoves of the smallest corners of Diagon Alley, Charlie apparated Hermione to the lake he seemed to be excited to show her.

Opening her eyes after Charlie apparated them away, Hermione saw an oval shaped lake, snuggled between the troughs of several small, green hills, with a narrow isle snaking off behind a rolling valley. Large slabs of rock were nestled in the mounds surrounding the lake, glued into the ground underneath them, as several trees scoured the lake's edges.

"Charlie, it's beautiful," breathed Hermione, scanning the empty area with her eyes, slowly waltzing in a circle.

"Do you like it," he asked, notes of apprehension ringing with his words.

Hermione turned to face him as she answered, "I love it."

At this, Charlie shot off a wide smile, emitting enough wattage to light the entire length of the Palace of Westminster on the snowiest of winter nights.

"Also, I don't know if you noticed but the sun's back out," Charlie noted, pointing a finger up above him.

Hermione looked upward as she saw that he was right, although there were some patches of clouds that lingered in the sea of blue sky.

"Did you want to find a spot to sit," Charlie then questioned, holding out his hand for Hermione to take.

She nodded, placing hers in his, as he led her closer to the lake, over the ankle-high grass, and over to where a large rock was. Taking out his wand and giving it a wave, Charlie made a checkered blanket appear, as it settled itself before the face of the smooth surface of the stone, after which Charlie and Hermione both sat upon it, the package of food in between them.

"How did you find this place," Hermione inquired, once again looking out at the shimmering waters that danced under the rays of the sun, glistening in its day-long glory.

"From a broomstick ride," Charlie answered.

Hermione looked over at him, repeating, "A broomstick ride?"

He nodded as he clarified, "It was a while ago, during a week in the summer that I took off from the reserve. I was riding my broom around at night, as that gives Muggles the least chance of actually spotting you, and I flew over this area by chance. It was lucky of me, really."

"And no one ever comes here," Hermione questioned.

"Well I wouldn't say that 'no one' comes here, but of all the times that I've been here, I haven't seen anyone, and I've been here a lot; I come whenever I'm home," he said.

"You never brought anyone here before?"

"What, you mean like my siblings," Charlie retorted, giving Hermione a pointed look.

As she nodded her head, Charlie snorted, stating, "Definitely not."

"How about any of your dates that your mum set you up on?"

At Hermione's question, Charlie turned his head and eyed Hermione for a long minute, before he shook his head from side to side. "No. They were just dates, Hermione, and nothing more. It's like I told you, I never felt any 'spark' with any of the girls my mum hounded me to take out. You're the first person I've shown this spot to."

Hermione smiled while Charlie tacked on in a teasing manner, "Do you feel special?"

After scoffing softly to herself, she nodded her head, saying, "I do."

"Now that you mention it," Charlie continued, fixing his gaze over the waters of the lake, "did you catch that man, Sprought?"

Hermione's mind displayed an image of the tall, thin man that questioned them before in the Ministry of Magic, a man in which the time Hermione spent with him had grown to dislike quite a bit.

"I don't like him," Hermione announced.

Charlie laughed lightly, as he concurred, "Of course, the man is a bloody wanker! But I mean did you catch his name?"

"Sprought," Hermione uttered in a question-like format. "Well, I did think something about his name sounded familiar, but I couldn't remember it."

"Sprought," Charlie began, "has a daughter named Desmirelda, the witch my mum told me about a few weeks back."

Suddenly, a light bulb went off in Hermione's eyes, as she remembered why the name sounded so familiar.

"Right, that was right before we went to Diagon Alley to pick up our dress robes for the Hogwarts' Banquet!"

Charlie nodded his head, smiling at the connection Hermione had made.

"So then, you haven't met him before?"

"No, I just went out with his daughter," Charlie said. "She didn't really talk about her dad at all, though, but it's such a small world we live in, isn't it?"

"You could say that," Hermione assessed. "Was Desmirelda anything like her father?"

"Bits and pieces of her, yes, but I can't think of any other person that I disliked within the first minute of meeting them," Charlie responded. "Clearly he did not find our story engaging in the slightest."

"Do you know if Sprought and Director Mulligan have some of history with each other," Hermione directed, tilting her head to one side upon thinking back on how the two men seemed to thoroughly abhor the other.

"As far as I know, Sprought at one time dated Director Mulligan's younger sister, as she had ignored her family's wishes to not see him. Anyway, she became pregnant with his child but miscarried."

Hermione gasped, clapping both hands to her mouth, as she looked over at Charlie, who looked back over at her.

"I know, it's horrible. Sprought ended things with her, stating that she wasn't strong enough to bear him a family. Director Mulligan's sister was left broken, and adding to the depression of losing her baby, committed suicide," Charlie regaled.

Hermione gasped again, staring over at Charlie.

"That's terrible," she supplied, as her mind couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Yeah, it is."

"How did you find out about that?"

"Stories tend to float around the reserve," Charlie replied with a small shrug of his shoulders. "As far as I know, Director Mulligan blames Sprought for what happened, yet Sprought apparently hasn't taken any responsibility."

Hermione thought about Director Mulligan and his late sister sadly, feeling her stomach contort over what it must feel like to lose a child. After several quiet minutes, she returned her gaze to look back out over the glimmering waters, as her eyes then tracked two birds, one red and the other white, that darted over its surface. She followed their movements and when they flew over the face of the sun, she turned away, the brightness too much for her eyes to handle.

Suddenly, a thought came over Hermione.

"Charlie," she asked, peeking over at him.

"Yeah?"

"Something's wrong."

"What? What're you talking about," he asked, as he pulled his brows together.

"I mean, I was just thinking about something that happened back in Woan that doesn't make any sense," she explained.

"And what would that be?"

"You said earlier today that Phillip was hit in the back of the head with a brick, right?"

"Yeah, I saw it next to him that morning," Charlie replied, "but what about that doesn't make any sense?"

"It's just that all of the buildings in Woan are made of stone, not of bricks. Where would that brick have come from?"

Charlie looked down upon the checkered blanket he and Hermione were sitting upon, as if the answer to her question was somewhere on its surface.

"You know, I never noticed that before but you're right," he assessed. "All of the buildings in Woan are made of stone. Something isn't adding up."

Hermione nodded as she added, "We also didn't get to tell Sprought or Director Mulligan that the dragon poacher we captured back in the Castle of Stone is dead."

"Well, Sprought didn't seem like he wanted to hear anything else besides the attack in Woan. Director Mulligan will find out soon enough if he hasn't already; I mean, he did say he was going to St. Mungo's to check in on Phillip," Charlie reasoned.

"But shouldn't that man's death be added to the case," Hermione questioned.

"It should, but if we brought it before Sprought, I'm almost positive that he would say there's no visible link between the two events, and would not even care to make a note of it. I'm sure Director Mulligan will do something about it though."

"I can't say that I like the idea of having the Auror Department involved with this investigation," Hermione announced, "being that some of them are questioning whether the Victorian Shaler even exists."

"I agree but there's nothing we can do about their interference; it's basic Ministry protocol," Charlie supplied. "We could take up Terrance's offer and open up our own examination."

Hermione laughed lightly at Charlie's proposal before she said, "Tempting, but I don't think I care too much about working closely with him."

"You have hard feelings about him," Charlie inquired.

"I don't know…he's just different," Hermione relayed. "I actually prefer Phillip's company to his."

Charlie nodded his head, contributing, "Terrance is certainly 'different' but he's a grown man. He's living life how he wants to, but I have to tell you, he's a good dragon handler, one of the best on the entire reserve. He'll be a big help over in Wales."

"How are we going to deal with poachers over in Wales," Hermione asked. "Is there a system set up already?"

"To my knowledge, by what Director Mulligan told me, it'll nearly be the exact same as it is in Romania. Wales doesn't have a big magical community, so restricting apparation over the entire dragon reserve will be easy to manage and maintain without qualms being hurled at us," Charlie informed her.

Hermione nodded her head in understanding as she returned her eyes to look off in the distance, over at the small, rolling hills that surrounded the area, as the sight relaxed her and cleared her senses. It was almost as if this lake-side retreat was part of another world like their own, yet hidden from dark secrets of an upcoming beyond.

Hermione then thought over the various camping trips her mum and dad brought her on before she started Hogwarts. She would be amazed at how beautiful nature was when it wasn't tampered with by the hands of human beings. While many people thought London was such a stunning place, Hermione thought that those same people should try looking where steel and stone didn't mesh together to form towering fortresses of solitude. Sometimes, green pastures left untouched was more of a heavy sight than that of a bustling city façade.

"What're you thinking about, Hermione," came the soft voice of Charlie, singing in her ears.

She looked over at him as she replied, "Just over the camping trips my parents took me on when I was little. We used to go all over the country; dad was an avid explorer in his free time."

Charlie smiled before he said, "Director Mulligan did give us the rest of the weekend off."

"He did," Hermione responded, "but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Didn't you say that you wanted to go get your parents and bring them back home," Charlie questioned.

"I did, but I don't think that it's the right time to do so. The new reserve is opening in three days, and now with this investigation open, who knows what'll happen next," Hermione said. "I want to bring my parents back to safety, but not like this."

"Hermione, I don't mean to discourage you but there is no time frame for how long it will take for this case will be concluded. It could take weeks, years, or it might end cold. Do you want to be separated from your parents for that long?"

Hermione sighed as she knew that he was right. She huddled her knees against her chest and hugged them, resting her chin on one of her kneecaps.

She felt Charlie move the package of food to the other side of him as he moved directly next to her. Him being so close was quite intoxicating as thoughts of her parents flew out of her, while the rumblings of relationship expectations rushed in.

"I don't mean to pressure you," he said gently to her, "I just want you to be sure that this is what you want."

Hermione looked over at him and saw that he was wearing a look of concern. His short red hair was combed into a simple style while the top button of his gray-collared shirt was undone, giving her eyes access to the top of his broad chest. She then looked up at his irises which seemed to brighter than usual, as if on alert for any potential intruders.

Hermione felt herself draw closer to him, thoughts of bringing her parents back to England having since dissipated; if it was by her own accord, by his, or a combination of the pair, she didn't know, yet she couldn't bring herself to care at that moment. Getting nearer, a stray thought of wanting to impress Charlie occupied Hermione's heart, creating a stronghold out of it, as the idea raced through the fiber of her very being. She closed her eyes as they were just inches apart from one another until the space between them closed as their lips brushed against each others.

Ever so slowly, their lips began to move in time with each other's, the tips of their noses poking and probing. Charlie suddenly grabbed one of Hermione's hands without breaking their contact, as he slowly sank backwards on their blanket, tenderly pulling Hermione so that she rested halfway atop of him. Charlie then moved both of his hands to her lower back as Hermione felt an instant coolness wash over her entire body.

As their lips continued to work against each other's, Charlie reversed their rolls, so that he was now lying partially on top of Hermione. He broke their connection, as he moved down towards Hermione's exposed neck, planting a row of kisses against it, making her gasp, before he started sucking her skin, clamping softly down upon it. Hermione's arms wound their way over Charlie's firm shoulders as he moved again, effectively pinning her underneath him, as he pressed his length against her, making her moan in pleasure.

Wild thoughts invaded Hermione's heart as Charlie continued his workmanship on her neck and shoulders, as she closed her eyes with the sensation Charlie was providing her. Never had she felt anything like what she was feeling at that exact moment in time, as she would be lying to herself if she wanted it to end.

It was evident, as Hermione already knew, that Charlie was far experienced in their snogging activity, and she was hoping that she was providing him the same enjoyment he was giving her.

Charlie broke away from Hermione's shoulder, moving back up and giving Hermione the most passionate kiss he could muster. Hermione forgot all other thoughts as his mouth ravaged hers, making her head spin and her heart swell.

Suddenly, however, his kiss stopped. Hermione opened her eyes to find Charlie staring down at her, his face divided.

"What's wrong," Hermione asked, as she thought that Charlie wasn't satisfied with her own kissing.

"We should stop," he breathed out, panting from lack of breath.

"Why," Hermione questioned, as Charlie pushed away from her, allowing Hermione to return to a sitting position facing him.

"I think we're moving too fast," he answered as if it looked like it pained him to utter.

"Was I not good enough?"

Charlie stared over at Hermione with a scrutinizing gaze, as he regaled, "Good enough? What are you talking about?"

Hermione sighed, looking down at her lap, wringing her hands together, as a soft wind blew over them.

"Hermione," Charlie softly said, "talk to me."

She fixed her gaze upon him, saying, "Charlie, I know you've been with a lot of girls, and I know that you must have certain expectations when it comes to relationships. I've already told you, but I'm not experienced. I haven't really properly dated anyone even. I just…I don't know," she faltered, shaking her head from side to side.

"Hermione, nothing is wrong with you. I'm worried about me," Charlie responded.

Now it was Hermione's turn to shoot him a scrutinizing look.

"What's wrong with you?"

Charlie issued a loud sigh as he moved one of his hands to the back of neck, clinging onto it, as if it was teetering on the edge of oblivion.

"You deserve better; you deserve a relationship that honors you for who you are. These flings that I've had with other women, they don't mean anything to me. Sleeping with them is an easy way to find pleasure and pass the time but that's something that I don't want with you…I want more. I've battled myself, ever since that night where we first talked after dinner, about how I felt about you. Hermione, I feel that spark between us, something that I've missed with all of the dates I've been on and the women I've slept with. My feelings for you give me a whole new meaning on what I want to be with you.

"I know we only just started talking with each other two weeks ago and we haven't been dating that long, but everything feels different with you. I feel something for you, Hermione, deeper than a random quick night. You don't deserve a hookup or an off-snogging session because you're better than that."

When Charlie finished, Hermione held a small smile upon her face as she was comforted with what he said.

"You really think that?"

"Yes," Charlie nodded, "and anyone who doesn't see that is just bloody blind. The one thing that I find most attractive about you is how you care for others. You care about house-elves and how they are treated, you care about the dragons back on the reserve, you care about Phillip and being nice to him when others, including myself, won't commit to do the same. I know you're not perfect," he continued on, as he saw Hermione had opened her mouth to protest, "and that's a good thing because neither am I. I want to be the best boyfriend that I can possibly be to you and that starts with treating you with respect."

Hermione, feeling as if she could float with the clouds above her, joked, "I don't find snogging disrespectful."

Charlie barked out a laugh, both his shoulders and chest shaking in delight, as he concurred, "I don't either, and I did enjoy ours, but I want to take things slower."

"So, does that mean we can't kiss," Hermione phrased, feeling her cheeks dust pink.

"I didn't say that, did I," Charlie posed. "All I said was take things slower."

After a moment, Hermione nodded her head and said, "Okay, we'll take things slower then."

Charlie beamed as he then relayed with a boyish face, "I don't know about you but I worked up a bit of an appetite. Are you hungry?"

Hermione laughed as Charlie started unloading their food package they picked up from Diagon Alley as they soon ate next to each other, resting against the rock near them. They talked about nothing and about everything as the afternoon grew late, where they engaged in another lip-matching entanglement, though it was more subdued than before.

Little did Charlie and Hermione know that with the opening of the new dragon reserve in Wales the following week, both of their lives would shift into a fast-forward motion, as the beginning of the end approached, baiting its time to upend its madness upon them.


	17. Parchment Dragons

Chapter 17: Parchment Dragons

The entire Weasley clan, including Harry and Hermione, gathered at the Burrow the Sunday before the new dragon reserve in Wales was due to open and Ginny was set to head off to complete her final year at Hogwarts. Mrs. Weasley called everyone over for brunch, a meal that she was sure would not take place for a long time, as pieces of her large family were set to be scattered.

As the forks and knives clanged upon glass plates and tea cups were being emptied, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were conversing with Bill and Fleur, the former of who was trying to feed Victoire with little success; Fred and George were talking with Percy about illegal order shipments from Belgium; and Charlie, Ginny, and Ron were engrossed in a heavy debate about the new seeker of the Chudley Cannons, as Hermione tried very hard not to roll her eyes as their conversation grew loud and louder in volume.

Ron, banging his fist upon the table and rattling the cutlery due to his hot-headed dispute with his siblings, was scolded at by his mother about scaring the baby, yet Victoire didn't seem at all perturbed by the sudden pounding, as she herself had copied Uncle Ron's motions, while Bill scowled over at his youngest brother.

"Hermione," came Harry's voice from her left, as Charlie was sitting on her right, "are you excited about tomorrow with the new reserve and all?"

"I am, actually," she said, nodding her head while thinking over the new location she and Charlie were to settle down in, "it'll also be easier to see everybody than being in Romania."

"How was your questioning," he inquired next.

"My questioning," she repeated, giving him a puzzled look.

"About what happened back in Romania," he explained.

"How did you know we were going to be questioned," she asked.

"Well, that's what our professor told us in training about legal disputes, and the Auror Department has been talking a lot about it."

"Why are they so interested in it," Hermione queried. "Aren't some people in the department perplexed why a new reserve is opening in Wales for a dragon that doesn't even exist," she asked in a bit of a haughty manner.

"It's a pretty big topic in the Ministry right now," Harry answered, shrugging his shoulders. "Nothing else is going on for people to talk about."

Hermione sighed as she said, "After everything that's happened, I think that having 'nothing else happening' is actually a good thing. Well anyway, the questioning was a bit odd. Some man by the name of Morlen Sprought was in charge."

"The Senior Undersecretary?"

"Yeah. Do you know him?

"I know of him; I mean, I've seen him around the Ministry several times," Harry added. "He seems kind of...I dunno, different."

Hermione thought about how she disliked Sprought when he questioned she, Charlie, and Terrance about what happened back in Woan.

"Different in a bad way," she tacked on.

Harry nodded his head in agreement as he continued to munch away on his food. Hermione, however, knew that something was happening, events set in motion, with the poachers infiltrating the reserve and finding the house in the middle of the woods. Over the past couple of days, Hermione tried to piece the jagged puzzles together, yet found no obvious connection that related one event to the other. To her, it was as if random acts had been strung in tandem for the sake of saving someone out of complete and utter boredom.

"How is training going by the way," Hermione questioned, legitimately interested. "Oh it's going great," Harry started enthusiastically, a smile slowly stretching over his face, "we're learning about a bunch of new spells and jinxes that I never even knew existed. This week, we're going to start defense."

"That's great," Hermione exclaimed, proud of Harry to see that he was doing well for himself following the remnants the war left behind. "And what about Ron?"

With this question, Harry's smile faltered for a bit, as his bright, green eyes flickered over to their best friend, whose face was as red as the ripest of tomatoes as Ginny berated him over his inconsistent claims about the Chudley Cannons.

"Ron's been struggling a bit," he finally said.

"Struggling with what?"

"A bit of everything, really," he answered with a heavy sigh. "His biggest problem is staying awake during the theory part of our learning, which makes him suffer when we practice. He just doesn't like it, Hermione. I can tell every day we go to class."

"Has he thought about stopping," Hermione asked.

"I dunno for sure, but he has talked about working with Fred and George."

"In the joke shop?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded his head. "And he's actually got some good ideas."

"So then what's stopping him for leaving auror training and working with Fred and George," Hermione whispered, as the Quidditch quarrel next to them had fallen silent as Mrs. Weasley raged over at how part of her family could turn into such baboons over a silly subject matter that held no magical weight whatsoever, as Victoire giggled madly away.

"Well part of the problem Ron has is that he doesn't have enough confidence," Harry murmured back, as he noticed that Charlie looked their way for a split second before returning to his food.

"Meaning what exactly?"

"He hasn't told Fred and George any of his ideas for potential products for their joke shop because he thinks they'll think they're a pile of rubbish. Also, he's worried about what his mum would say if he quit auror training. You already know what she thinks of Fred and George dropping out of Hogwarts to run their business."

"Yes but it's incredibly successful," Hermione stated. "Even I had no idea how popular their shop would become!"

"I know but Ron thinks that he crossed his mum's tracks when he decided that he wasn't going to go back to finish his seventh year; telling her that he's quitting auror training to work with Fred and George, who doesn't even know if they'll except him or not, would be her last straw," Harry returned.

Hermione looked over at Ron, whose face was still beat red, as he picked away at his leftover food and stuffed it in his mouth, while his head rested about his closed fist. If she was to be honest with herself, Hermione did think that Ron looked a bit put-out. His shoulders sagged more than usual while sketches of soft lines were etched into his forehead. He looked as if he didn't get enough sleep during the night, yet couldn't quite take it to himself that he needed rest.

"He does look a bit stressed," Hermione said quietly to Harry. "We have to say something to him."

"But what can we tell him," Harry asked. "He already told me that he wants to stick with the training."

"He's going to be miserable though," Hermione countered. "There must be some way to convince him."

"Trust me, Hermione, I've been trying to come up with something to tell him but every time I think I have a good idea, he shoots it down."

"We'll think of something," Hermione reassured, nodding her own head as if she was trying to convince herself of the matter, even though she thought that Ron's reasoning was quite sound.

After brunch had finished, Hermione, Ginny, and Fleur stayed in the kitchen to help Mrs. Weasley clean up while Bill and Percy struck up a conversation as Ron was cornered by Fred and George, the twins informing him about their latest invention and needing a taste tester, while Charlie had disappeared.

Following several minutes, Mrs. Weasley shooed the girls away, telling them to enjoy their own afternoons.

It was at this time then something began nudging Hermione's shoulder. She looked over and saw that a small piece of parchment had been folded into the shape of a dragon that had been charmed to move under its caster's spell. She smiled down at it as it continually bumped against her. She took it in her hands where the parchment rolled into a flat surface, as Charlie's handwriting read, ' _Come to my room when you're finished. I want to talk to you about something._ '

Looking around herself, she realized that no one seemed to notice Charlie's charmed dragon parchment as she ducked out of the kitchen to not draw attention with her exit. She started to climb the stairs, bypassing the second-floor landing where she was currently residing with Ginny. As she made to move up to the third-floor, she looked out the large window pane she passed, and smirked to herself to see Ginny lead Harry by the hand over to the Weasley's shed.

Moments later, she appeared in front of Charlie's room, where she saw that his door was half-closed. Thinking that she shouldn't barge in unannounced, Hermione softly knocked on the door, to which Charlie called out, "Yeah?"

She pushed it open, emitting a loud _squeak_ as she found Charlie's eyes staring at the new entrant. When he spotted Hermione, he smiled and said, "Hermione, you don't have to knock."

A light blush painted her cheeks as she mumbled, "Well, I thought it would be better to."

"Come in, my rooms a bit messy but it's not as bad as it was this morning," he said.

Hermione looked around and saw that the blue covers of his bed were thrown over the mattress in a haphazard way while his fluffy pillows sat at one end, some drawers holding his clothes were partially shut, while a small desk pushed against one of the beige-colored walls was littered with parchment and quills.

"I think it's quite cozy," Hermione stated.

"Ha, ha, how hilarious," he tossed back, shutting his clothing drawers, and kicking a lone pair of boxer shorts under his bed.

Hermione scoffed as Charlie looked up at her with questioning eyes.

"You leave your undergarments under your bed," she asked.

"For the time being, unless you would like to watch me fold them to put back in my dresser," he retorted lightly, flashing her a grin, looking as if several years had been deducted from his age.

"Tempting but I think I'll pass for now," she replied. "I liked your dragon parchment by the way."

Charlie laughed lightly, saying, "That's the first time I tried something like that, actually. I got the idea from Minister Shacklebolt and his memos he sends to the other department heads."

Hermione remembered from a couple of weeks back seeing Kingsley charm a piece of parchment into the body of small lynx that jumped into the air and disappeared. She would later learn that the lynx arrived in the office of Mr. McGill, much to the detriment of him and his belongings.

"I actually do like your room," Hermione repeated again, this time with less buoyancy.

"Really," Charlie questioned with trepidation as he scratched away behind one of his ears, "because there's not much to it."

"There's this," Hermione said, pointing to an older picture of the Weasley family that was framed and situated atop of Charlie's drawers. In it, Mr. Weasley and a pregnant Mrs. Weasley were standing in front of a skinny Christmas tree, each holding one twin in their arms, along with Bill, who was staring back at the camera with a heavy smile, Charlie, who seemed to picking his nose, and Percy, who had a shy look about him, as the entire tribe was wearing the trademark Weasley sweater.

After looking to what Hermione was pointing to, Charlie scoffed, making her turn around.

"I like that picture, actually," she told him.

"You like seeing me pick my own nose," he asked back.

"That's a bit strange, but the look on your face is cute," Hermione said with a smile. "How old were you in it?"

Charlie turned his eyes upwards towards the ceiling, deep in thought, before he answered, "Probably around five would be my guess. I mean, Fred and George are only babies in the picture."

"You know, I think that's the first picture I've seen of your family. Why haven't you taken another with Ron and Ginny?"

"I dunno," Charlie replied with a shrug of his shoulders, "I mean, Fred and George really were a handful, even as infants. I think there's a picture just of Bill and I with mum and dad but I don't know if that thing's still around."

"You should keep your pictures, Charlie, they're good memories."

"Yeah, well I'm not sure if I fancy a memory of me picking my own nose," he retorted, crossing his arms over his chest in a shifty manner.

Hermione's eyes found his, before she scanned the rest of his room, seeming to look for more pictures she may have missed when first entering.

Watching Hermione with brief humor, Charlie announced, "Like I said before, it's not much, but it's home."

"Well, like I also said before, I find it cozy."

"I find it cramped."

"Back at my home, it's only me and my parents," Hermione started, walking over to the window square framed against one wall to bathe in the sunlight pouring through it. "It's a big home and we all have a lot of space."

"That sounds like a dream house to me," Charlie affirmed.

"I think it is for a lot of people. The only problem is, is that there was so much unused space. It's like my mum and dad didn't know what to do with all the extra room. Sometimes, the house just felt cold, and I don't mean temperature wise. I mean, I did like it and all, but we were all just so separated. Even though the Burrow is more…compact, everyone's together," Hermione explained, "like family."

"Well that could be seen as a blessing and a curse. I mean, there's no privacy here whatsoever. Bill and I shared a room, Percy shared a room with Fred and George at one time, before he was forced to move in with Ron, much to both of their displeasure," he added fondly. "Only Ginny got a room to herself before Bill and I moved out. But you're right, everyone is together, sometimes too much for my liking."

Hermione laughed as she looked out the window. Far off in the distance, she could just make out the Lovegood home, a structure that resembled a tilting chess rook.

"I didn't know you could see the Luna's house from here," Hermione stated.

"Yeah, you barely make it out though. I remember seeing all sorts of colors flying around the home late at night; Bill and I used to move our beds by the window to watch it," Charlie mused with a small smile on his face. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

Hermione turned to look over her shoulder at Charlie, who had since refocused his gaze onto her.

"What if I say 'no'," Hermione teased.

"Very funny," he shot back, shaking his head from side to side.

Hermione laughed as she said, "You can ask me anything."

Charlie nodded his head as he phrased, "What were you and Harry whispering about at brunch?"

"He was telling me about Ron is all."

"And what's going on with my baby brother this time?"

"Well, he's struggling in auror training. Harry says that he's having a hard time focusing and concentrating and his performance shows. Apparently, Ron wants to stop auror training to work with Fred and George," Hermione explained.

"In the joke shop," Charlie posed, quirking up a brow, in which Hermione nodded in answer. "That's funny; Ron never really struck me as someone with good humor."

"He's worried what your mum might say," Hermione continued on, "being that he's not going to be on the Hogwarts Express tomorrow."

"Yeah, she was always set on having all of us finish our education. Seeing that three out of her seven children didn't, that's got to be a nag for her," Charlie responded. "I don't know, I think Ron should do whatever he wants. Clearly he's not cut out for furthering his education, evidence that he's not returning to school, and he's only going to be more miserable the longer he stays in training."

"That's exactly what I told Harry," Hermione replied, "but your mum is a pretty big issue. Also, Fred and George is another subject matter entirely."

"Mum will get over it," Charlie said, sticking his hands in the pockets of his blue jeans, "after a while, of course. Fred and George…well, they took pleasure in torturing Ron when he was younger. But if Ron was serious about joining them, and proved himself worthwhile, they'd welcome him with open arms. Until Ron sees that though, he'll only remain unhappy and lash his anger on everyone else around him, kind of like how he was to me and Ginny earlier."

"Yes, you three seemed to be having quite the talk over Quidditch," Hermione supported.

"Excuse me, but I thought that it was pretty civil until Ron inserted himself into the conversation," Charlie defended.

"Well Ron does like to talk about Quidditch; he and Harry did a lot of that back at Hogwarts."

"We all have our own topics of discussion we like to converse over," Charlie added with a shrug of his shoulders. "But, I did need to talk to you though about something concerning the new reserve," Charlie then declared, as wrapped his arms over his wide chest again, making his biceps appear twice its already large size.

"What about," inquired Hermione.

"It's about living arrangements. In Romania, all of the workers lived in flats, as I'm sure you remember. In Wales though, there are no flats. Instead, we are all given small homes. Two types of residences exist: single and double," he continued on, holding up one finger, followed by a second. "Director Mulligan told me that some workers wanted to room with their mates while others preferred to live alone, which is why he decided to give everyone an option."

"Okay, I follow you so far," Hermione confirmed, as she thought she knew the direction Charlie was heading in.

"Yes, well," he continued, stammering a bit as the tips of his ears started to grow a bit red, "I wanted to know what you wanted…in terms of living arrangements."

"What do you mean," Hermione inquired.

"Did you want to stay by yourself in a single home, or did you want to stay with me, in a double?" The whole time while asking his question, Charlie's eyes were glued upon the wooden floorboards beneath them, yet when he finished, his sea blue eyes shot up to meet Hermione's browns.

"I mean, it's not like we're going to get married or anything by moving in together, I just want you to be as comfortable as you can possible be in Wales," Charlie directed.

After a moment's thought, Hermione looked over at Charlie, who was still staring at her, as she said slowly, "I think I want to stay with you."

"You think?"

"No, I mean, yes, I mean," Hermione stuttered. Grunting and letting out a long breath, she calmly repeated, "I'll stay with you, Charlie."

"You sure," he asked, slowly making his way towards her as a small grin crept over his features.

"I'm positive," she smiled. While the two stared at each other, another question popped into Hermione's head concerning their living quarters. "Are the houses near the actual dragon pens, or is the setup going to be similar to that of how it was in Romania?"

"Good question," Charlie commented, before he ordered lightly, "take a seat on my bed, I have something to show you."

Hermione did as she was told, plopping down onto Charlie's fluffy mattress. She noticed that his bed was warm and smelled of the woods under a light winter mixed in with a fresh load of berries, two scents that mixed well with each other in her nostrils. Also, something about his bed was distinctly comfortable, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.

After shifting around the many parchments scattered over his desk, he then pulled out a longer sheet, as he started to make his way back towards Hermione, staring down at it.

Taking a seat next to her, close enough that their arms touched (not that Hermione minded in the slightest), he gave the parchment for Hermione to look at. Hermione stared down at odd shapes that seemed to be drawn aimlessly upon it, with lines crisscrossing over one another, resembling something close to a spider's web.

"Is this the reserve in Wales," she asked after a long moment, finally connecting their previous conversation to what she was currently holding in her hand, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

"A rough blueprint, but yeah," he answered, leaning closer to her so that they could look down at it together.

"What are all these shapes," Hermione questioned, pointing to half a dozen squares.

"Let me explain, although this whole thing will be much clearer when you see everything tomorrow morning. The first thing you have to do is register your wand."

"Register my wand?" As Charlie nodded his head in answer, Hermione asked, "How do I do that?"

"It's easy. The front gate, which I'll explain in just a second, has two trees on either side of it. In those trees, a whole branch of bowtruckles live. All you need to do is give your wand to a bowtruckle which will grant you access to the main gate," Charlie said.

"I don't understand," Hermione started to say, in which Charlie looked at her, prepared to answer any questions that she may have.

"What's that?"

"Well, if all you have to do to register you wand to proceed to the front gate is to register it with a bowtruckle, couldn't the reserve be accessed by poachers as well?"

"No, actually. These bowtruckles in Wales have been trained in order to be able to detect a wand that does good versus a wand that does bad. It's like an animated version of the Wand Detector."

Hermione tilted her head to one side, curious of this subject matter as she has never heard of training bowtruckles before.

"Is this type of thing common," she asked.

"No," Charlie replied, pouting out his bottom lip while shaking his head lightly from left to right. "It's actually a fairly new procedure, one that has been tested by the Ministry and approved."

"Hmm, that's really interesting. So you've registered your wand before then?"

"Yep. I've been over to the reserve in Wales several times now. Everything is complete for me," Charlie said.

"Okay, so after I register my wand, what's next?"

"Afterwards, you have to unlock the gate," Charlie instructed.

"And how do I do that?"

"With your wand. You wave in a pattern I'll teach you in a bit."

As Hermione nodded her head in understanding, she felt her own excitement mounting with each new detail Charlie told her. Something about the dragon reserve of Wales felt secure, more so than that of the reserve in Romania. In addition, she noticed that Charlie's eyes were alit with exhilaration, answering all of her questions with a large amount of patience and a smile.

"Now, after you pass through the main gate, there's a short pathway to walk between the trees," he continued, tracing one line of ink with his pointer finger upon the blueprint of the reserve Hermione was holding in her hands.

"What comes after that," Hermione questioned, noticing that the line ended suddenly, as boxes of all different shapes and sizes were doodled down in addition to a large oval.

"This is where all of the homes are," Charlie phrased, pointing to small individual squares.

"They all seem so close together," Hermione noted.

"Yeah, but they're not really that close; it's just how the drawing turned out," Charlie corrected.

"And what about these larges boxes," Hermione asked next, pointing to three larger squares situated a short distance away from the homes.

"Okay, the first one here," Charlie said, pointing to one, "is the cafeteria. The next one is a lounge area for relaxation, as I think there's a small library there as well. The last one is a hospital for any injuries we might sustain with our dragons."

"And what about this square and oval over here," Hermione positioned over to the final two shapes.

"The square is a swimming pool that's heated during the winters and chilled during the summers, while the oval is a Quidditch pitch."

"A Quidditch pitch?"

"Yep. One of the main issues back in Romania was the lack of amenities on the actual reserve. Many of the workers want to have some downtime, so McGill and Director Mulligan thought a pool and a Quidditch pitch was a good investment to make," Charlie answered simply.

"We should invite Harry and Ron; I'm positive they would love the Quidditch pitch," Hermione said, making Charlie smirk.

"Then," he continued on, tracing another line with his finger, "after walking another short distance, there's a big clearing in the trees, which is where two separate tents are located: the first is the Center of Directions, exactly like the one over in Romania. The second is a nesting tent, where the newborns are hatched. And beyond the clearing and the two tents are the dragon pens."

"Were there nesting tents over in Romania," Hermione asked, remembering only the Center of Directions pavilion settled before TAP.

"Yes but they were in each individual dragon pen. Director Mulligan thought it would be better to have just one tent for the newborns," Charlie clarified. "And, well, that's the entire reserve."

"It seems to be a lot bigger than in Romania," Hermione mentioned.

"It is," Charlie agreed, "mainly because of the individual homes we are given instead of everyone living in one flat."

"Do you why they decided to change that, giving everyone homes instead of flats?"

With this question, Charlie cast his eyes downward as he looked as if he was trying with all of his might not to roll them (though this was not directed at Hermione's question but rather his answer he would have to give), before he responded, "There were…noise complaints."

Hermione thought this had an added meaning behind it, yet she couldn't decipher what it was.

"What kind of noise complaints," she asked innocently.

Charlie laughed lightly, looking back up at her again, saying, "They were the type of rackets that involve sexual endeavors you could say."

"Oh," Hermione uttered, feeling her cheeks burn.

"You don't have to be embarrassed, Hermione. Remember what we said before: that sex is a natural inclination? Away from home, guys tend to get lonely and one way to combat their loneliness is to have sex. I mean, I'm not saying its right all the time, especially with the guys that have their own girls waiting for them, but it happens."

"I'm sure it does," Hermione replied, thinking over Terrance and the countless number of quests he has been on for the opposite sex. No doubt he would have new ground to break upon in Wales and its cities, as Hermione wouldn't have been surprised if Terrance had exhausted the supply of women back in Romania.

"Well, anyway," Charlie supplied, the tips of ears glowing red, "do you want to learn the wand pattern for the front gate?"

"Yes," Hermione answered, happy to diverge from the topic of noise complaints, as she stood to her feet while Charlie copied her motions.

Charlie took out his wand and waved it at the parchment Hermione was still holding, making the blueprint of the Wales reserve tug out of Hermione's hands where it floated back onto the surface of his desk.

"So, there's not much too it," he posed, "it's kind of like a zigzag followed by a short circle. Here, I'll demonstrate."

Hermione watched intently as Charlie showed Hermione what to do. She studied how his hand grasped his wand; she looked at the pattern Charlie flowed through; she examined his posture and stance as well.

"You can practice if you want, though there's nothing here to try it out on. Usually, it takes several attempts to get right," he finished.

Hermione looked up at Charlie and said, "Thank you for telling me everything. I'm excited about tomorrow."

He grinned, replying, "I am too. It should be fun in Wales. And don't forget: we leave at seven in the morning."

* * *

Later that night, after a celebratory dinner whipped up by Mrs. Weasley, in honor of Ginny's final year at Hogwarts plus Charlie and Hermione moving to Wales, was devoured quite rapidly, Hermione sat up in bed, with Ginny fast asleep feet away from her, practicing the wand movement Charlie had demonstrated for her earlier.

She promised herself to practice it before she went to bed, though she had since lost count in how many times she had waved her wand around in the dead of dark.

Sighing contently to herself, she decided that it would be best for her to call it a night, as she felt her eyelids had been growing heavier by the passing minute. Just as she snuggled into her pillow, the blankets of her bed pulled up to her side, willing for sleep to take captive of her, she heard a strange sound.

Hermione picked her head up off her pillow and looked around in the darkness, the beams of the moon hidden by cloud cover. She stilled, making sure she did not just imagine the noise. After several seconds of silence, she heard it again. It sounded like parchment rubbing against thick bark from a lone tree.

Grabbing her wand, she whispered, " _Lumos_."

Upon her wand tip igniting in a blinding light, Ginny mumbled incoherently in her sleep, making Hermione direct her wand downwards as to not awake her. Tiptoeing out of bed, Hermione walked over to the source of the racket, which was coming from the door.

Scanning the ground beneath her, she saw what looked like one of Charlie's parchment dragons trying to squeeze itself in the space between the door and the floorboards. Scoffing lightly, she bent down and helped it work its way into Ginny's room.

As soon as it did, the parchment dragon took flight and zoomed up towards Hermione, its small wings flapping silently to keep it steady in the air, while its tail waved back and forth. She gently took it in her hands and unfolded it, reading by wand light: ' _I don't know if you're still awake but I'm trying to sleep and can't; someone keeps popping into my head whenever I close my eyes…it's quite haunting honestly. Since we both have an early morning tomorrow, I'll try to do something to occupy my time until sleep finally comes, though how long I'll have to wait will be a bit of a mystery. Sweet dreams, Hermione. – C.W._ '

A goofy smile spread over Hermione's face as she read over Charlie's note again, and again.

" _Nox_ ," Hermione whispered, as she settled back into bed, placing her wand on top of trunk. As the parchment morphed back into the shape of a dragon, it nestled itself in the nape of Hermione's neck, snuggling against it as it started to emit low snores. Just before she fell asleep, Hermione wondered what Charlie was going to do while he waited for slumber, no matter if it was light or deep, to come knocking. Under the confines of just several minutes, Hermione drifted away, Charlie's nighttime sentiments wrapped around her heart.

* * *

The following morning, after Hermione had finished in the loo, she entered back into Ginny's room, seeing the youngest Weasley close her school trunk shut.

"Is that it then," Hermione asked, making Ginny turn around.

"That's everything," she replied with sad grin.

"Ginny, what's wrong?"

"I don't know…I guess it's finally hitting me that this will be the last time I'll be on the train to Hogwarts," she replied. "I didn't know it before but I'm going to miss it. I'm going to miss you not being there, Harry too, and even to a small extent, Ron. It just won't be the same."

Hermione nodded her head in understanding, returning, "I know. I can't believe that I'm not going back but heading to a dragon reserve instead. But you'll be alright, Ginny, I know you will. You still have friends at Hogwarts, and you can always send a letter to me whenever you want."

"Yeah but it'll be different," she echoed. "You and Charlie will be in a different country, and Harry and Ron will be too busy with auror training."

"Ginny, even though that's true, you're as close to me as family. Whenever you want to talk, I'll always be here for you; you know that."

"I know," she responded. After a long minute, she said, "Hermione, you're the sister I always wanted. I think of you as a role model, someone that I hope to be like in the future. We've been through a lot together and you helped me through a lot. I'm going to miss you."

Hermione smiled at Ginny's words before she replied, "I'm going to miss you too."

The two girls then wrapped their arms around each other, feeling both happy and sad at the same time. While Hermione was touched by Ginny's words, she also felt a hint of forlorn parting with her after spending months rooming together.

As they broke apart, Ginny phrased, "I mean, it's not like you're going to permanently move to Wales, right?"

Hermione smiled as she shrugged her shoulders and answered, "If Mr. McGill and Director Mulligan offer me an extension, I might."

"You know, I never would've pictured you working with dragons after Hogwarts. I thought you would've started your career at the Ministry of Magic, working your way up to eventually become the Minister," Ginny supplied.

Hermione laughed freely, saying, "Honestly, I haven't scratched that option off my list yet."

"If you stop working with dragons, you'll become Minister one day, I know it."

"While I admire your ambitious perusal of my future career, we'll see," Hermione relented. "Thank you for letting me stay with you, Ginny, and sharing your room too."

Ginny waved her hand as if she was swatting away a fly, responding, "That's nothing. I know you would've done the same for me. Also, I would tell you to be safe in Wales working with the dragons over there, but then again, you'll have Charlie with you."

"What does that mean?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, before she said, "It means that Charlie would face one of his dragons head-on wandless before he even thought of the idea of you being in any harm. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that the two of you were dating. You've been spending a lot of time with him lately."

"True," Hermione mused, "but didn't I see you and Harry run off after brunch yesterday," she teased.

"It was a farewell chat," Ginny retorted.

"Oh, a 'chat' was it?"

"Okay, okay, we maybe did a little more than just 'chat.' Satisfied?"

"What you do with Harry is your own business. I just want you two to be happy…together," Hermione affirmed.

Ginny smiled tightly, one that didn't reach her eyes, before she said, "We'll see."

However, before any more words could be exchanged, Ginny's room door burst open, as Mrs. Weasley and Charlie rushed inside.

"Are you ready to go? We have to leave in five minutes," they both exclaimed in unison, as they then looked at each other, before fixing their gazes on the room's two occupants.

"Merlin, you two sound like Fred and George, saying things at the same time and looking at each other afterwards," Ginny remarked, turning around to grab her trunk. After she did so, she faced Hermione and gave her another tight hug. "Be safe, Hermione," she whispered.

"I will," Hermione murmured back. "Promise me that you'll write."

As Ginny pulled away, she looked Hermione right in the eyes and said, "Promise."

"Ginny, let's go dear. I don't want to rush at the last minute," Mrs. Weasley said, urging Ginny forward and out of the room.

As the youngest Weasley passed by Charlie, they hugged one another, as Hermione could tell they were have whispered last words with each other, just as she and Hermione had moments before.

Ginny then disappeared down the stairs, her trunk banging loudly, her flaming red hair dancing behind her.

Charlie then walked inside, keeping his eyes upon Hermione while he did so, as she noticed he was wearing a simple navy shirt paired with gray jeans that had burnt holes in them. His short red hair was waved off to one side, except for a few strands in the back, which seemed like he couldn't keep down.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes," Hermione responded, nodding her head, excitement bubbling in her stomach.

"We are all of your things," Charlie asked, looking around the nearly bare room, save for the two beds that remained.

"Right here," Hermione said, gesturing towards her beaded bag she clutched in one of her hands.

"Oh right, the Undetectable Extension Charm," he thought aloud, smiling his boyish grin. "How could I have forgotten about that?"

"I'm actually quite surprised you remembered."

Charlie gave her a funny look before he ushered, "Well that hurt."

"Sorry," Hermione laughed, "I just didn't think you'd remember. It's not anything special."

"Hermione, whatever you do is special to me. You know that, right?"

"I do now."

"Good," Charlie finalized, with a curt nod of his head.

"Are we going to apparate there," Hermione asked.

"Yep. The reserve is actually located near Beddgelert in Gwynedd, Wales," Charlie said. "Northern Wales," he explained, seeing confusion enter onto Hermione's face.

"Okay," she responded. "I'm ready."

"Don't worry, Hermione, everything will be fine," Charlie consoled.

"I'm not worried, I'm actually excited," she replied.

"Let's go then," he said, pulling her against him, bending down and planting a kiss on her forehead. Not a second later, Charlie apparated them away from the Burrow, out of England, and to their destination.


	18. Time before Extinction

Chapter 18: Time before Extinction

A slight chill picked away at her exposed skin, making her shudder slightly. Upon opening her eyes, Hermione faced a large, iron fence, one that was locked between two thick trees that soared high into the cloudy sky. With Charlie by her side, the area they were now in was shrouded in a dense fog, so thick that Hermione couldn't see much past the gate she was in front of, making her feel as if she was wandering through a dream.

"So what do you think," Charlie suddenly asked, throwing his hands up in the air, gesturing towards the milieu around them.

"Well, I can't really see much," Hermione said, looking around her to see that their immediate environment consisted of towering trees, thick fog, and an iron railing.

Charlie chuckled before he replied, "The front gate is a bit boring, but I was talking about the area around it actually. I like it."

Hermione looked over at Charlie to see him looking around at the tall trees, a content smile plastered on his face.

After a full moment, Charlie sighed lightly and started, "Anyway, let's get your wand registered. Follow me."

Hermione followed closely behind Charlie as he led her off towards one tree to their right, this one looking a bit bulkier than its neighbors. Hermione watched closely as Charlie, taking a quick peek back at her over his shoulder, faced the bark and knocked tenderly against it, his bare knuckles scraping across its surface.

After several seconds, Hermione gasped aloud as what looked to be a circular door within the bark of the tree suddenly pop open, as a bowtruckle looked out at them, it looking as if it wondered what the two wanted.

"Give him your wand, Hermione," Charlie instructed gently, giving her an encouraging smile that reached his eyes.

She nodded her head in understanding as she slowly bent over towards the bowtruckle, who had since turned his attention on her in curiosity. As the creature reached out to grab her wand, Hermione thought that it would surely be too heavy for it, yet, the bowtruckle seemed to possess a surprising amount of strength as it collected her wand with ease. It then stepped out of its circular hole and, using the grooves in the bark as leverage, climbed halfway up the tree, where Hermione saw an implant engraved that looked just big enough for a wand to fit in.

With a feeling of astonishment coursing through her, Hermione watched her wand snuggle in the nesting the tree provided, while Charlie stood next to her.

"What happens now," Hermione asked in a whisper, as she thought that if she spoke too loud, the bowtruckle would charge her on the grounds of disturbing the peace, and abandon her wand registration.

"The tree thinks," Charlie answered back quietly without taking his eyes off of her wand, "and then it gives an answer."

"An answer," Hermione began to say before she saw a small puff of green smoke emit around her wand, encasing it, before the green mist slowly dissipated.

"If red smoke clouded around your wand, it wouldn't register and you wouldn't be allowed to enter on the reserve," Charlie explained lightly, while Hermione continued to gape at what she was seeing.

The bowtruckle then retrieved the wand, climbed back towards its circular hole, where it carefully handed Hermione's wand back to her.

As she took hold of it, she looked at the creature and muttered, "Thank you."

Charlie himself nodded curtly at the bowtruckle before it disappeared back into the tree from whence it came, closing its bark door leaving Charlie and Hermione alone once again.

"That was incredible," Hermione stated, looking over at Charlie with awe.

"It is pretty cool," he agreed, "there's a whole branch of bowtruckles that lives in this tree," he supplied.

"Just one tree," Hermione questioned.

"As far as I know, yes," Charlie responded, "but I wouldn't be surprised if they infested the ones around it."

"And you said that they are Ministry approved?"

"Not the bowtruckles themselves," Charlie answered patiently, as he led Hermione back towards the gate, "but the method in which they are able to use their own sense of magic, mixed with the nature around them, to test the wands of owners that try to make it onto the reserve."

"I mean, I've seen bowtruckles in books before and studied them back at Hogwarts, but I've never seen one up close like that," exclaimed Hermione in an excited manner.

"Everything looks different in reality," Charlie echoed, "I heard dragons are the same actually."

The two looked at each other, smiles hugging both of their features, while their eyes were alight with humor.

"Now," Charlie announced, recomposing himself down to official business, "you remember the wand motion I taught you yesterday?" When Hermione nodded, he continued, "All you have to do is to repeat that motion at the gate and it'll allow you to pass through it."

"Sounds easy enough," Hermione commented, though with a bit of hesitancy. While Hermione was confident with the fact that she had memorized the wand movement Charlie had demonstrated for her precisely, there was always a hint of panic within her that whispered 'failure.'

"I'll go first," Charlie said, nodding towards her, as he strode confidently up to the iron railing. Hermione watched as the second-oldest Weasley never stopped walking as he waved his wand in a zigzag motion, quickly followed by a small circle, before he entered through the gate in a cloud of black smoke.

"See, nothing to it," he called back turning back towards Hermione, wrought-iron railings separating them. "You'll be fine!"

"Right," she said, though more to herself than Charlie. Hermione then faced the iron bars, noticing the necks of two dragons breathing fire were entwined with each other. Taking a deep breath, Hermione repeated the motions Charlie had shown her, as she walked towards the gate, it showing no understanding of what she had done. Closing her eyes, Hermione's feet kept moving forward before she felt a cool warmth layer against her, before a strong pair of hands suddenly grabbed her waist.

Flinging open her eyelids, she saw that she had walked straight into Charlie, who stopped her from surging against him.

"You should pay more attention to where you are going," he teased, not letting her go.

Feeling a more playful banter initiating within her after having successfully passed onto the encampment, she replied, "Honestly, I had every intention of walking forward."

"How…by walking directly through me?"

"One way or another," she shrugged, making Charlie scoff.

"Hermione, you against me is like a quill knocking against the walls of Hogwarts castle; I wouldn't even budge."

"You keep thinking that, Charles," Hermione asserted before she spun out of his grasp and walked around him, marching forward upon a light-purple cobblestone pathway.

She only got a few paces before he caught back up with her, grabbing one of her hands in his, saying, "I'll take you up on that, Hermione. I'll be waiting anxiously."

Hermione looked up at him and shook her head softly from side to side, as the pair continued to stroll down the narrow lane, tress shouldering both their sides, while the fog continued to drift soundlessly around them. The wind didn't make an appearance while the branches of neighboring trees around them clung to each other, like at a family gathering, or a collection of hands strung together around a burning bonfire.

After walking in silence for a couple of minutes, Hermione, having looked around her more than once, suddenly asked, "Charlie, are there enchantments around the reserve?"

"Yep, around the entire perimeter. That was one of the faults the reserve in Romania didn't have, but I'm pretty sure after the incident that just occurred with the poachers, it'll be implemented soon enough."

"Do you think Director Mulligan found the house we told him about," Hermione inquired next.

Charlie seemed to think about this for a while, before he answered, "Truthfully, I don't know. I mean, I'm not sure either of us could find it again. I had no idea where we were after we crashed."

"Is it possible that there could be a house like that on this reserve?"

Charlie looked over at her, all humor having since evacuated from him, as he slowly nodded his head.

"It's possible."

"Didn't anyone scout the area before though?"

"I'm sure the Ministry did many different times, but there's always a way to work around the building blocks of order, even against magic. There are constantly flaws in the thinking of strong wizards and witches…it's just in our human nature. No one's perfect even if we all strive to achieve it," Charlie responded.

"I just don't want any poachers to infiltrate the reserve again," Hermione reasoned.

"Nor do I but for the time being, it's simply out of our hands. I will say though that this reserve is better equipped than in Romania with the bowtruckles acting as our own wand detector, so I'm not as concerned as I was before."

While Hermione nodded her head wordlessly, Charlie added, "Don't worry, Hermione, I won't let anything happen to you."

At his words, Hermione looked up at Charlie, yet he avoided her eye contact as he continued to look straight in front of him.

Hermione then fixed her gaze in front of her, as a few feet up ahead, she noticed that the tree line abruptly ended, giving way to a colossal clearing.

Reaching that point, Charlie and Hermione paused in their walking, as the latter looked down in astonishment at a low, flat valley surrounded by a swath of never-ending trees, the cobblestone path she and Charlie were on cutting directly through it. On one side of the lane were the houses of the workers of the reserve, each one having its own area of land as green hedges separated each property; on the other side, three buildings sat (Hermione presuming they housed the cafeteria, the lounge paired with a small library, and a hospital Charlie informed her about the previous day), while the Quidditch pitch and pool were situated behind.

Charlie turned to Hermione and questioned, "So is everything a bit clearer now?"

Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she replied, "You did a pretty good job explaining everything yesterday, but it's good to finally see all of it."

"You see that over there," Charlie questioned, pointing his finger.

Hermione looked to where he directed, as on the other side of the valley, the cobblestone path sloped upwards, disappearing within the trees that were huddled closer to it.

"Yeah…is that where the dragon pens are?"

"That and the Center of Directions and the hatching tent for the baby dragons," Charlie supplied. "Before, this entire area was filled with trees. The Ministry however charmed the trees to jump back several miles to create this clearing for us. I think they did a pretty good job."

"It does feel more like a small community," Hermione agreed, smiling to herself, calmed by the serenity the reserve provided.

"Come on, let's go check out our new place," Charlie suggested with a hint of a young boy rushing away from his parents to check out new order shipments of the latest model broomstick.

As Charlie led her down the path, Hermione saw several workers moving about in the early morning in Wales, the mist still hanging over them, the sun lost somewhere above them.

After making their way down into the valley, the pair diverted off of the main pathway and over to a wooden booth, placed in front of the numerous homes spaced out behind it.

"Can I help you," a young man behind the booth asked in a mildly tired tone. Hermione figured that this young man recently finished his schooling, as he looked rather young. His shoulder-length brown hair framed his face while he stood quite tall and skinny.

"Um yeah, my name's Charlie Weasley and this is Hermione Granger. We wanted to room together," Charlie said a bit awkwardly.

"Are you two married," the attendant asked, looking between them, his dark brown eyes resting on Hermione a moment or two longer than was normal.

"No," Charlie answered back.

"Are you two a couple?"

"Yes."

"Okay, okay," the attendant muttered, looking down at a piece of parchment in which Hermione noticed hosted a list of numbers. "The director came by earlier and told me to only give the double residences to roommates or couples as there aren't too many of them," the young man announced as way of an explanation. "I think house forty-four will work well for you. Here's the key," the attendant responded, reaching down behind the booth and handing it over to Charlie.

"Thanks," he replied, and without any further exchange, they walked away onto another cobblestone path (this one, a deep red) that wound its way through the rows of homes.

The deep red lane snaked its way through the houses, as Hermione saw that most of them looked similar to one another: four sand-colored walls, a tiled roof that formed a small peak over the front door, coupled with a small porch area, placed upon a plot of green grass, as tall hedges obscured the glass windows facing those of the nearby houses.

"I reckon we got one of the first pick of homes," Charlie announced in a slightly excited manner, leading Hermione by the hand down a different string of homes, looking at each one he passed. "I don't think many workers are on the reserve just yet."

"Are the double residences all close by each other," Hermione asked.

"I dunno, but the numbers are out of order. The house we just passed was sixty-three and this one here is nineteen!" After Charlie shook his head in bafflement, he said, "To answer your question, I don't think the double residences are all by each other. This one here looks bigger than the ones around it," he pointed out to Hermione, as she saw that he was correct. "A bugger though that the number on this house is twenty-four."

Charlie and Hermione kept walking, Hermione quite enjoying their house hunt, while Charlie's once-excited behavior was slowly deteriorating into one of impatience.

After several more minutes of strolling around, Hermione heard Charlie mumble, "You'd think that they give you a bloody map…"

Suddenly, a voice called out, "Char! 'Mione!"

The two stopped in their tracks before they both turned in unison and saw Phillip waving at them from the doorway of a single residence home, a wide smile covering his bruised face.

"Phillip," Hermione called out, walking over to him while Charlie did the same, "how are you?"

"I'm fine, just some bumps here and there! How've you two been? I feel like I haven't seen ya both in a while," he replied back cheerfully, looking over at the pair as if he was assessing any external injuries they might possess.

"We're good, really good," Hermione answered.

"So, I suppose this is your home," Charlie questioned, nodding towards the building behind Phillip.

"Sure is, Char! Are ya two around nearby? Wouldn't it be great if we were neighbors?"

"Well that sure would be-," Charlie started to say, however, he was cut off for a second time.

"Charlie, Hermione?"

The pair turned around once again to see who had called out their names, and saw Terrance walking towards them.

"Terry," Phillip exclaimed loudly. Hermione saw Terrance's eyes flicker towards Phillip before they settled back on her and Charlie, giving no further notice that he heard anything at all.

"Are you two around here somewhere," Terrance inquired, making a point not to look at Phillip, whose smile had grown even wider despite being ignored.

"Uh, I dunno exactly," Charlie started to say, "Hermione and I were looking around for it."

"Ya mean, are ya two, like together or something," Phillip asked, looking towards them with bulging eyes.

"Well we didn't exactly mean for the entire world to know, but yes," Charlie returned, pulling Hermione against his side, "Hermione and I are dating."

Phillip chortled, slapping his knee, saying, "I knew ya'd two end up with each other! Ya remember, I told ya the first time I saw ya in Diagon Alley!"

As he said this, Terrance shot him a cold look, his eyes like sharp daggers waiting to draw droplets of blood.

Hermione, however, couldn't help but share in with Phillip's enthusiasm as she smiled at him.

Charlie, smiling a bit too tightly for comfort at Phillip's over-enjoyment, looked at Terrance and asked, "What about you, Terrance, is your home nearby?"

"I think so…it's number is sixteen," he replied, looking around.

"Sixteen," Phillip repeated, "Terry, that's right next to mine! Just over there," he pointed a finger which was wobbling in his immense excitement.

Hermione saw a brief look of panic pass over Terrance's features as he realized that Phillip was right.

"You and I are going to be neighbors, Terry," Phillip cried out eagerly.

"Yes, I can't wait," Terrance replied in a monotone. As he walked by Charlie and Hermione, they both heard him mutter quietly, "What on earth did I do to deserve living next to dung-head Phil."

Charlie frowned at his words while Hermione glared at his retreating back.

"Well, it was nice to see you Phillip, but Hermione and I need to go find our place…we'll catch up with you later," Charlie stated, starting to walk away.

"Oh, no problem! I'll just go chat up with Terry," he responded with another wave.

They turned their backs just as Phillip went over and knocked upon Terrance's door, as Charlie whispered, "They'll be lovely neighbors, don't you think?"

"I'm sure Terrance will finally warm up to him," she responded making Charlie laugh.

"Well, who knows? Maybe Terrance and Phillip will finally make amends."

"Hopefully," Hermione tested, "but I'm glad you did, Charlie. I know it's hard with what happened but Phillip seems like such a nice guy."

Charlie smiled and kissed Hermione's temple, letting his lips linger longer than necessary, making her shiver.

"I'm happy too. It makes being around him easier," Charlie said. "And I think this might be us."

Charlie and Hermione stopped in their tracks as they looked up towards a home that resembled the others nearby, except that theirs was larger and bore the number '44' on its brown door.

"So much for moving back to Devon," Charlie stated.

Hermione looked over at him and said, "You know, you did tell your mum that you were moving back there."

"I did, but that was before Director Mulligan told me that the reserve would provide housing. I mean, we technically could live in Devon and apparate here every day, but I guess you lose the experience when you do that. Besides, it would be quite difficult to know if anything was going wrong if we didn't live here."

Hermione nodded as she looked over her shoulder and noted, "We actually aren't that far away from Phillip and Terrance."

Charlie followed her line of sight and nodded, "I guess we can all be neighborly then. Let's go inside."

The couple walked up to the front door, in which Charlie opened for Hermione to enter through first. Doing so, she first laid eyes upon a large, rectangular room, harboring two large windows. One side, she supposed, was the carpeted living area, while the other had a small kitchenette set up atop of tile flooring. She and Charlie then walked forward, down a hallway, in which two bedrooms sat on opposing sides of another, as each was complimented by its own bathroom.

"This is a double residence," Hermione asked.

"I suppose though I thought it would be a bit bigger than this," Charlie answered, scratching the back of his neck.

"Also, I noticed that we don't have any furniture," Hermione relayed, looking at the bare rooms within the home.

"Oh, that's pretty simple; we conjure them ourselves," Charlie stated.

With those words, Charlie pulled Hermione into one room as he released her hand. He then waved his wand, making a fluffy mattress appear, coupled with four pillows and bed sheets. Next to it, a small nightstand came into existence, followed by a small dresser for his clothes and a small desk.

"See," he said, turning towards her, "not so bad, right?"

"Is this going to be your room, then," Hermione questioned.

"Yeah…about that, I assume that you want to stay in separate rooms?"

Hermione looked up at Charlie to see that he had an embarrassed look about him, as the tips of his ears burned a bright red.

"I m-mean," he stammered, "we can stay together i-if you w-want, but it's u-up t-to you, I guess?"

Hermione flushed slightly as the meaning of his words dawned upon her, before she stated shakily, "Yeah, I think I'll take the other room."

"Right," Charlie finished, nodding his head once. "I just want you to be comfortable, Hermione. If you need or want anything, don't hesitate to let me know."

"Thanks, Charlie."

The two stared at one another for a long time, Hermione momentarily getting lost in Charlie's sea-blue eyes.

"Well, I should get unpacked then," Hermione announced, breaking the connection she and Charlie had formed.

"Right," Charlie said again, "well, I'll be right here if you need me."

Hermione nodded her head in understanding before she retreated across the hall to her own bedroom. As she flung her wand to and fro, styling her room to her own accord with few elaborate decorations, adrenaline started to pump through her veins as the realization that she was now living with Charlie Weasley, alone, swung into her.

The only other time in her life she had been alone with a member of the opposite gene pool was with Harry and Ron when the three of them were on the run. Even after Ron left them, Hermione never felt the excitement with Harry that she was now feeling with Charlie, mainly because she didn't share any romantic feelings for Harry, and the threat of Voldemort and his fervent Death Eaters weighed heavily upon them.

Now, however, Hermione was living with Charlie, sleeping feet away from him. She wondered how their relationship would continue living in such close quarters with one another, and if they needed to define boundaries that would both be appropriate yet give them the opportunity to live like an actual couple.

As these thoughts swirled in Hermione's head in dizzying proportions, a knock was suddenly heard at the front door.

Both Charlie and Hermione exited their rooms as they looked at one another curiously, before they both walked down the hallway, making towards the door.

Charlie turned the knob and opened it to see Director Mulligan standing before it, while a cheerful Phillip and a sullen-face Terrance stood behind him.

"Mind if we step in for a bit? I feel like a chat is in order," Mulligan asked.

"Oh, of course, come in," Charlie said, opening the door wider for the three men to enter. Hermione waved her wand, making a large, comfortable-looking couch appear, along with two cushioned armchairs.

"Miss Granger," Mulligan nodded towards her.

"Good morning, director," she replied.

"Hmm, I thought the double residences would be larger than this," Mulligan commented softly, as he looked around the living area and kitchen. "Anyway," he continued in a louder voice as Charlie closed the door, "I'd like you kids to take a seat."

The four moved over to the large couch Hermione had conjured as she sat in between Charlie and Terrance, while Phillip sat on Charlie's other side.

Mulligan remained standing with his hands behind his back as he started, "I filled Phillip in on everything that has happened since the incident that occurred back in Woan. Did you three get a chance to take a look at the Daily Prophet the morning of the questioning," he inquired, looking over at Charlie, Hermione, and Terrance.

As the three nodded their heads in answer, he went on, "So I figure you all heard about the poacher's death in St. Mungo's?"

"We all saw it in the Prophet," Charlie regaled. "Sir, has there been an investigation over what happened?"

"Far as I know, the Auror Department is currently looking into it, as one of their own is charged with the murder. It's quite ballistic at the Ministry right now."

"They don't seriously believe that one of their own aurors killed Octavian Rual," Hermione interjected, looking up at Mulligan.

"Who," Terrance asked from beside her.

"The poacher that was killed," she rapidly responded.

"The odds are stacked against him, Miss Granger, and he was in the room when they found Rual dead," Mulligan answered.

"Do they have any evidence that he committed the crime," Charlie questioned next. "I have to agree with Hermione; I mean, what would the auror have over the poacher to actually end up killing him…it doesn't add up."

"I don't know, Mr. Weasley; his trial is due in two days time, so maybe we'll have a clearer picture then. However, I wanted to speak with you about the house you two," Mulligan continued, looking at Charlie and Hermione, "told me about. I found it."

"You found it," Charlie and Terrance asked in unison.

"I did. Why do you two seem surprised?"

"I just never seen it before," Terrance replied.

"And I was telling Hermione earlier that I wasn't sure if either of us would be able to find it again," Charlie added.

"Well it took nearly an entire day but I found it alright. More interestingly, Phillip told me he's seen it too."

At this bit of news, Charlie, Hermione, and Terrance all turned to look at Phillip, who was wearing an impassive look.

"Phillip, you knew about the house," Charlie queried with a note of dubiousness.

He turned to look at the three of them as he nodded his head slowly, his merriment he entered the house with having since left him.

"Why didn't you say anything before," Charlie asked again.

"I just remember seeing it, actually. My vision of it is kind of hazy but there's definitely a memory that I have of it," he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "The one thing I recall about the home is that it looked like it was abandoned. Past that, I can't remember much."

"Do you know how long ago it was that you first saw the home," Mulligan asked.

Phillip looked up towards the ceiling deep in the thought, before he answered, "Maybe within the past year? But I've only seen it once."

"And over the course of a year, you didn't think to tell one of the workers, including Director Mulligan, about a random house in the middle of the woods," Terrance questioned, as Hermione detected a hint of bitterness within his words.

"Terrance," Mulligan warned authoritatively, shooting him a dark look.

"I didn't think anyone would believe me," Phillip said quietly down to his lap, as his shoulders rolled forward in defeat. "The workers were treating me different at that time and I didn't think anyone would care to listen."

At his words, Hermione felt her heart plunge to freezing temperatures, taking a quick swim in waters that had recently defrosted, though shards of ice remained within its system. Phillip just looked so lonely as his remarks were burdened with a load of truth and certainty. Hermione understood the feeling of being alone, as she had felt the exact same during her first year at Hogwarts, up until the Halloween Feast when Harry and Ron had saved her from a troll that had been set loose within the castle.

However, Hermione also took note of when Phillip had remembered seeing the home: within the past year…that worked within the time frame of when Phillip had supposedly entered the enclosure of two Hungarian Horntails, around the time that, according to Charlie, Phillip had started to act a bit funny, not remembering doing anything of the sort – an event that killed one of Charlie and Terrance's best friends, Ray Worton.

"We don't blame you, Phillip," Mulligan reassured, looking rather uncomfortable in the direction that conversation had suddenly turned, "but we need to know about these things as they happen. We can't risk waiting around to see what comes of something, especially when working with dragons."

Phillip nodded his head wordlessly, refusing to look up at Mulligan.

"Sir, did you find out if the house is how the poachers entered the reserve," Terrance asked.

"It seems so," he replied with a heavy sigh. "It's equipped with a fireplace though I didn't see any Floo Powder around."

"The house isn't abandoned then," Charlie abruptly cut in, making all heads turn towards him.

"How do you know that," Mulligan inquired.

"Hermione and I found a bag of Floo Powder inside it," Charlie answered, as Hermione nodded her head in agreement. "I remember seeing it on the floor."

"He's right," Hermione piped in, "right when we entered inside the home, the first thing we went over to was the fireplace and there was a small bag of Floo Powder next to it."

"Charlie, Hermione," Terrance called out, making them turn to face him, "are you sure that's what you saw?"

"Positive," Hermione responded, "I remember."

"Are you sure you didn't see anything, director," Charlie asked.

"I'm quite sure. I scanned the whole house as best I could. This is rather interesting, I must say," Mulligan stated. "Let me contact the Ministry and let them know of this new development. In the meantime, I also came here to give you your work schedules."

Waving his wand, two slips of parchment appeared in the air before Charlie and Hermione. Hermione took hers in her hands to see the calendar for the month of September etched upon it, in which a red 'X' appeared every Monday.

"Um, sir," Hermione started, "what does the 'X' stand for?"

"Those are the days you have off. I took the liberty to draft you and Charlie to the same schedule. If you want a change, I can pair you with Terrance of Phillip. I'll be here for the remainder of the week but after then, you kids are all on your own."

"Sir, is there going to be a director for the reserve," Hermione inquired.

"I was thinking of having a sort of joint directorship, falling in the hands of Mr. Weasley and Mr. Wriley, but we'll see how the week goes," Mulligan finalized. "Anyway, I'll be off now; if any of you need me, I'll be in house ninety-six. Whoever numbered these homes was most likely dropped on their heads as a small child."

With one final nod, Director Mulligan exited Charlie and Hermione's home, leaving them with Terrance and Phillip.

"Well, that was quite informative," Terrance stated, as he stood to his own feet while looking over at Phillip with mistrust in his eyes.

"Where are you headed," Charlie asked him.

"Unlike some couples, I have work today," Terrance replied with a small smile, looking between Charlie and Hermione, "and I'm pretty sure Phillip does as well."

At the mention of his name, Phillip looked up and nodded his head.

"We'll walk you down there," Charlie commented, standing to his own feet as Hermione did the same, "I want to show Hermione the hatching tent."

"Alright, let's go then," Terrance said, walking out the front door with a silent Philip following; Charlie and Hermione placed their work schedules back upon the couch and closed their front door of their home on their exit.

The party of four walked shoulder to shoulder down the red cobblestone pathway, as the fog had begun to slowly dispel, leaving behind patches of its early-morning existence. There was no wind to speak of, though the air had a slight chill to it that Hermione knew would disappear as soon as the face of the sun began to burn down upon the encampment in its glory.

Pairs of workers also followed the pathway that led away from the homes until it reformed with the purple trail that separated the houses from the reserve's amenities.

While Charlie and Terrance had struck up a conversation (Terrance telling Charlie with whom he spent the past two days with), Hermione noticed that Phillip was very quiet; he had been ever since he revealed why he never told anyone of the house in the woods he remembered stumbling upon.

"Phillip, are you okay," Hermione asked him quietly.

He looked down at over as he nodded his head silently, though the light Hermione usually saw dance within his irises had since evaporated.

"You don't have to be ashamed about not telling anyone you remembered the home," she continued unperturbed, "I know what it feels like to be alone."

At this, Phillip looked at her again as he asked, "What do ya mean, 'Mione?"

Not having the heart to tell Phillip that she hated the nickname "'Mione," she returned, "When I was little, I didn't have many friends; I didn't have any at all, actually. Up until Halloween during my first year at Hogwarts, I was alone."

"I don't like that feeling," he responded simply.

"I don't either but I'd imagine many people feel that way…they just don't outwardly express it. Sometimes it's hard to make friends, to find people who will accept you for who you are, knowing all of your faults and failures."

"Yeah, I think I was the same as ya while at Hogwarts: I didn't have friends. But it seems like you gained some, didn't ya?"

"I did," Hermione returned.

"I didn't," Phillip said back. "Maybe I just couldn't find anyone that would accept me for who I was?"

After he said this, Hermione remembered that Phillip's father, Edvin, whom she and Charlie had met back in St. Mungo's, told them something very similar about how Phillip was picked on by his peers while his professors grew concerned by his introverted behavior.

Deciding to focus on the present instead of the past, Hermione stated, "Well you have Charlie and I. We're your friends." She had the thought of adding Terrance to his friends list, yet she thought better of it seeing as how he had acted towards Phillip minutes earlier.

"You and Char are good people," he noted with a small smile, "unlike some others." For a quick second, Hermione thought she saw Phillip's eyes flash over to Terrance, but it was only for a millisecond, if it happened at all.

"Ya know, I think you are good for Char too," he added as an afterthought, making Hermione looked over at him curiously.

"What do you mean," Hermione asked.

Phillip shrugged his shoulders as he replied, "'S far as I know, Char didn't have many long-term encounters with birds; he was the type to spend one night with them and nothing more. Of course, he did have that one girl before, but she was more like a banshee than a bird if ya ask me."

Hermione started laughing, breaking Charlie out of his conversation with Terrance to look over at her.

"What are you laughing at," he questioned lightly, an eyebrow quirked upward as Terrance looked over at her as well.

"Just something Phillip said," she returned, making Charlie shrug his shoulders before resuming his chat with Terrance.

"I like Charlie," Hermione stated over to Phillip, "he makes me happy."

"That's fair," Phillip replied with a smirk. "By the way, thanks for the book ya got me for my birthday; it was a fascinating read."

"Did you finish it?"

"Yep, I finished it while I was recovering. That book listed some facts that I didn't even know about, or else I'd forgotten about," he said. "I could lend it back to ya if ya want."

"That'd be great," Hermione exclaimed, feeling a rush of enthusiasm swell within her, as her thirst for gaining new knowledge remained ever strong.

"I can stop by after work to drop it off. I think ya'd like it a lot."

"Thanks, Phillip."

"No, thank ya, 'Mione, for getting me that present. Like I said, it was a great read."

The two then fell into a comfortable silence, as the purple cobblestone lane started to stroll upward at an incline, making its way out of the low-lying valley. The thick trees started to crowd more closely around them now, its branches creating a canopy of leaves above their heads. Small rays of the sun started to pierce through their makeshift overhang in small glints of light, making the pathway look as if buried gold was plotted within it.

Hermione looked around them, seeing sections of heavy green undergrowth formed between nearby trees, shaping into an improvisation of low-lying walls, as olive-colored vines adorned with bright orange flowers hung from random branches, creating curtains within the trees.

Hermione couldn't help but think the scenery was quite stunning and appealing to the eye, much more so than at the front gate of the reserve.

"Here we are," Terrance stated suddenly, as Hermione looked ahead of her and saw that they had stepped into a wide clearing, made of mulch, strewn leaves, and gangly twigs, large enough for two tents to sit within.

"Well then, I guess I'll see the two of you later," Terrance said aloud, looking over at Charlie and nodding to Hermione.

As he turned on his heel and walked away from them, Phillip commented, "I'll stop by after work and drop of the book for ya to read, 'Mione. I guess I'll see ya later too, Char."

With a small wave of his wand, Phillip followed Terrance to the opposite side of the clearing where they disappeared in a large gap within the trees: the entrance to the dragon pens.

"What book is Phillip talking about," Charlie questioned after they were gone.

Hermione turned to look at Charlie as she answered, "The book I got him for his birthday, _10,001 Facts about Dragons: A Guide of Intelligence to Understanding their World and Perceptions_."

"Do you think the authors could've come up with a longer title? It seems quite short to me," Charlie said.

After Hermione shook her head as his teasing, she explained, "Phillip already finished reading it so he's going to lend it to me."

Charlie nodded his head in understanding before he asked, "Hermione, do you think he's okay…Phillip, I mean? He seemed kind of, I dunno, down, back at the house."

"I think he got better the more we talked. I think he's lonely, Charlie. It seems like he's never had any real friends, people that he can talk to or laugh with. Remember his dad told us the same thing back at St. Mungo's?"

"Yeah, I remember that. I just never saw him like that. Before, he's never said that the workers were treating him differently. I mean, we all were, including me, but it never seemed to bother him."

"Maybe he was holding it in. Think about it: how would Phillip look if he went up to the workers of the reserve and told them he didn't like the way they were treating him," Hermione reasoned.

"I'd imagine he'd receive more than a black eye," Charlie wagered.

"That's probably why he never said anything to anyone. It's like he said: no one would've probably even cared to listen."

As Charlie took in Hermione's words for a moment, he started, "You know, I feel bad about it. I guess I'm seeing things in a whole new light."

Hermione reached out and took Charlie's hand in hers, surprising him.

"Everything will be okay, Charlie."

He looked into her eyes as she looked into his. After holding each other's stares for longer than normal, he gave her a lopsided smile as he pulled her against his side, resting his hand on her waist, and placing a tender kiss against her temple, his lips as smooth as silk against her skin.

"Shall we go see some dragon eggs then," he inquired, making Hermione giggle and nod in answer.

"Right, so this circular tent here," he began, nodding towards the white pavilion in front of them, "is the Center of Directions; it's set up exactly how it is in Romania. This one, however," he continued, turning to look at a nearby squared-shaped tent that was emblazoned with gold and midnight blue strips which also had twin peaks toward its center, "is where the dragon eggs are kept."

"I actually had a question about that," Hermione interjected.

Charlie smiled as he inquired, "And what would that be?"

"Well, isn't the dragon eggs supposed to be kept with their mothers? I read in a book back at Hogwarts that eggs separated from the mother's care could potentially result in the death of a newborn," Hermione reiterated.

"And you are quite right about that," he noted with a slight nod of his head. "However, these eggs that are kept here are because the mother is unable to attend to it."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Let's go inside first and I'll explain," he offered, before he led her towards the closed flap of the tent, opening it for her.

Once Hermione stepped inside, she felt a cool air rush around her; it was as if winter had come early inside the exhibition.

"Charlie, why is it so cold in here?"

"We have to keep the temperature of the tent the same as it would be if the egg rested under the mother's belly and dragon scales are cool to the touch."

Hermione nodded her head at him before she looked around the darkened pavilion; the inside was compartmentalized by brown wooden boards, while small emerald green arborvitae trees were arbitrarily placed, it crowded by hives of fairies that cast about a soft glow of yellow lights.

"Charlie," Hermione piped up again though whispering now as the inside of the pergola was of a hushed silence, "why are all of the fairies yellow? Aren't they multicolored?"

"They are but the arborvitaes attract only the yellow ones, something about a difference of its leaves being more sensitive to larva. We found out the hard way a while back that dragon eggs and multicolored fairy lights do not register well with one another," he answered. "Come on, I'll show you around."

Taking her soft hand in his rough ones, Charlie led Hermione around, looking between the wooden boards that formed a cubicle around each dragon egg in the tent, in which Charlie informed Hermione that there were currently four of them inside.

As they stood together looking at a pale grey egg that was situated on top of a stone pedestal, cushioned by small pillows at its base while it rocked from side to side every other moment, Charlie said, "This egg here is an Antipodean Opaleye. Its mother was killed by its mate."

"You mean that the father killed the mother," Hermione gasped horrifically.

Charlie nodded his head somberly as he continued, "I told you before, Hermione, dragons are very territorial creatures. When they're fully grown, they don't know family from foe; it's just in their nature. Part of our jobs is to make sure they don't kill each other off into extinction."

"So what will happen when the baby is born?"

"There's a training facility out near the dragon pens where we'll raise this one; feed it, teach it how to fly, train it, and then we'll put it in its own pen. It's the type of job I like the most on the reserve, is training the baby dragons. Sometimes I forget that I'm raising an animal instead of a human."

"I don't know if I could actually picture you going soft like that," Hermione probed.

"Hey, it's not just me," he said, holding up both of his arms, "all the workers are like that, especially Terrance. And I'm one-hundred percent positive you would go the same route."

"Maybe," Hermione allowed, "but I have yet to see a baby dragon."

"Don't worry…this one's coming soon. We also have two more that are due next week," Charlie responded.

"Really, which ones?"

"The Victorian Shalers," Charlie answered. "You want to check out the eggs?"

"Yes," Hermione rapidly answered, before Charlie led her to the middle of the tent.

Excitement bubbled within Hermione as she and Charlie had read over piles of notes about the Victorian Shaler during their time at the Burrow over the past couple of weeks. It was one of the main reasons as to why this dragon reserve was stationed in Wales, and it was the subject of much debate within the Auror Department of the Ministry of Magic.

"Here are the two beauties," Charlie announced, guiding Hermione into another cubicle, this one double of the size of the compartment hosting the Antipodean Opaleye.

In the center, two more stone pedestals rested, stifled also by tiny pillows, while two eggs rested atop each one. These eggs, however, looked almost alien: its shells were encrusted in what looked like sparkling jewels, glinting under the yellow fairly lights. Also hidden among its smooth casing was a line of purple that crossed over a line of orange, forming a large 'X'. Hermione thought that they looked absolutely breathtaking.

"Incredible, isn't it," came Charlie's voice from beside her.

Hermione softly shook her head from side to side, replying, "I've never seen anything like it."

"I personally can't wait until they hatch. Director Mulligan said that the Victorian Shalers are of a divine beauty."

"So will they also be trained like the Antipodean Opaleye?"

"Yeah," Charlie nodded, "but they'll most likely be trained separately. The territorial nature of dragons starts at a young age."

"But don't the Victorian Shalers like the company of other dragons," Hermione questioned, remembering discussing this strange nature that dragon possessed with Charlie.

"They do, but the same can't be said for the Antipodean Opaleye."

Hermione moved her head up and down in understanding, as her eyes once again trained on the purple and orange X's of the eggs belonging to the Victorian Shaler. While Hermione was also looking forward to the hatching of the two eggs of this newly-discovered breed, something about that marking was disturbing. She didn't know what it meant (if it signified any meaning at all), but Hermione had an uncomfortable feeling about it.

* * *

Later that day, Hermione agreed to accompany Charlie into Fauella, the only wizarding community stationed in Wales.

The first thing Hermione saw after Charlie had apparated them to Fauella was a stone bridge, its deck large enough for Muggle cars to pass onto. The entrance to it was flanked by two stone Welsh Dragons, as the bridge itself was set over a waterway, a smooth current set to it, while heavy sets of cable were connected to two large stone towers, in which a walkway was set underneath.

"Charlie, where are we," Hermione asked, looking around.

"In a very remote area of Wales," he answered. "Behind us is a forest that stretches on for miles, and in front of us is our destination of Fauella."

Hermione looked across the way and saw that the wizarding community was set upon a bulky slab of rock, as behind it was nothing but an open ocean.

"Charlie, is that Cardigan Baby behind Fauella?"

"It is," he nodded. "So, shall we go across?"

"Yes, let's go."

The two reached for each other's hand in a natural inclination as they both smiled at the contact.

A heavy wind stole over them while they crossed coming from the open sea, while Hermione looked over one side of the overpass and down to the waters below.

"Do you know how high up the bridge is from the water," she questioned.

"About fifty feet, not a comfortable height for anyone to fall from," he said back to her. "You see that building in front us, Hermione," Charlie then asked, pointing with their joined hands to a structure that hailed under the architecture of a gothic revival style. Its dark red façade was symmetrical while a large dome made of green and white tiles sat atop its middle.

"Is that Wales' Ministry of Magic?"

Charlie looked over at her and commented, "Quite perceptive, aren't you? I guess I shouldn't be too surprised."

Hermione nudged Charlie's arm with her own as she stated, "It's very striking."

"You took the same words that I used when I first saw it," Charlie replied, gazing up at the towering structure. "The building itself is called Shadowground. I probably shouldn't ask since you probably know the answer anyway, but do you know why it's called that?"

"Honestly, I don't know the answer to everything," Hermione stated with a roll of her eyes.

"Oh, so you don't know," Charlie exclaimed with a wide smile.

"Is it because the sun casts the shadow of the building over the bridge when it sets?"

Charlie's smile instantly vanished.

Hermione noticed this as she asked, "I'm right, aren't I?"

Charlie muttered, "It's something like that."

Hermione's shoulders shook with silent laughter before she asked, "Is the actual wizarding community inside Shadowground?"

"No," Charlie shook his head with a light grin, "there are buildings beside it, see right there?"

Hermione looked over and saw that Charlie was right: beside Shadowground, a line of buildings stood, yet they were difficult to take notice of since Shadowground just about dwarfed everything near it.

"I actually wanted to stop by the grocer's market and pick up some food," Charlie said.

"You don't want to eat in the cafeteria on the reserve," Hermione inquired.

He looked over at her as he responded, "I don't mind eating there from time to time, but I also like to cook for myself. If I'm to be honest with you, I think my food sometimes tastes better anyway. We can pick up some snacks also if you want."

After they made their way across the bridge, Charlie and Hermione found themselves standing in front of Shadowground. They both peered up at it, taking in its grand presence as the sun glinted over its large dome, while a pale blue and cloudless sky stretched overhead.

Charlie then led Hermione by the hand down a smooth paved street, one side lined with different shops of the wizarding community while the other bordered a railing that protected stray witches and wizards from plunging down into the waters below.

They passed by numerous people on their way to the mart, where both Charlie and Hermione picked up four bags full of food for them to stuff their cupboards with back at home on the reserve.

After a short battle of who would pay for the groceries (Hermione had won out), they both apparated back to the encampment, where they placed their purchased items within the cabinets of the kitchen of their home.

* * *

Later that night, after Charlie had whipped up a delicious bangers and mash dinner, while Hermione provided a dish of vegetables, they both changed into their sleepwear, Hermione wearing a loose-fitting, spaghetti-strap dark pink top with grey pants, while Charlie wore a plain white t-shirt with dark blue, plaid pajama shorts.

As Hermione sat on the couch of their living area, combing through the first pages of the book she had bought for Phillip for his birthday, Charlie brought over two bowls of sherbet mint ice cream, handing one to her.

"Thanks," she said, closing the book and resting it on one of the armrests.

"No problem," he replied, taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch of Hermione, both of their legs splayed out towards the middle where their feet met.

"Mmm, this is delicious," Hermione commented, swallowing a large scoop of ice cream.

"I told you its good!"

"My parents weren't fond of me eating sweets, especially ice cream," Hermione said.

"That's right, they're densits, aren't they?"

" _Dentist_ s, Charlie, but close enough," Hermione corrected, taking on another large scoop.

"So how do you feel about the reserve," Charlie questioned, looking over at her.

"I like it," Hermione responded. "I mean, I miss the Burrow right now but I'm positive I'll get used to being here. What about you?"

"I like it too," he stated with a shrug of his shoulders. "I thought the house would be bigger, considering it's a double residence and all, but other than that, I have no problems with it."

"If you had to choose," Hermione started, stirring around some of the melted contents of her ice cream around with her spoon, "which reserve did you like more: Romania or Wales?"

"Wales," Charlie answered without hesitation.

"Did you even think about it?"

"Of course I did," he said shortly.

"Okay, so why then do you pick Wales over Romania?"

"Well, it's simply really: in Romania I was alone, but in Wales I'm with my girlfriend."

At this, Hermione stilled for this was the first time that Charlie had outwardly referred to her as his affectionate other. She looked over at him and saw humor in his eyes while his boyish smile softened his features.

Taking on her silence, he asked, "Did I say something wrong?"

"What? N-No," Hermione faltered, "you just c-called me your…girlfriend."

Charlie cocked his head to one side as he requested with a note of apprehension, "Was I not supposed to?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, "You never have before."

"Well more people know about our relationship than back at home. I mean we're practically announcing that we're together by living under the same roof," he enlightened.

"I like it when you do that."

"Do what?"

"Call me your girlfriend," Hermione replied. "It makes everything more real."

"More real? What do you mean by that," Charlie asked.

"Since I've never been in a proper relationship before, I don't exactly know how to act as a girlfriend. I'm not exactly sure what to do or if I'm supposed to initiate something or wait for you to and-,"

However, Charlie cut her off by inserting, "Initiate something? Do you mean like snogging?"

As Hermione nodded her head, Charlie started laughing, making her cheeks turn pink.

"Hermione," Charlie started in between breaths of amusement, "being in a relationship deals with a lot more than just kissing. Of course, that's part of it, but not the whole thing. Relationships is also about getting to know your partner, connecting with them on a deeper level, understanding who they are as a person and becoming compatible. For instance, I like it when I'm around you because I enjoy talking with you. Every time we talk, I always end up smiling because even though you have brains, you have a ton of wit; that's something I would've never guessed about you. You're also caring, about both people and magical creatures, and you're passionate about the betterment of everyone and everything you come into contact with, from S.P.E.W. all the way to Phillip. It's incredible and I love that about you."

Each word Charlie spoke made the grin on Hermione's face become wider and wider. She felt her heart melt within the pastures of longing while her head was a constellation among the stars. Hermione could tell that Charlie meant everything he said, and that he was not just sprouting a chorus of words for the sake to make Hermione feel better. It was the truth, black and white, dotted with bursts of color, exposed for all eyes and hearts to see and feel.

"I like you Hermione, I like you a lot."

"I like you too, Charlie," Hermione nearly whispered back after a minute, staring intently over at him. "Being with you makes me happy, kind of like how I feel right now."

"Happy, huh," he asked, making Hermione nod her head in answer. "Can we do something that makes me happy?"

This made Hermione inquisitive as she questioned, "You're not happy now?"

"No, I am, but I know something that'll make me happier," he toyed.

"And what would that be?"

Charlie smiled as he set his empty ice cream bowl down upon the table he had conjured earlier in front of the couch. Hermione did the same before Charlie scooted towards the middle of the couch, softly pulling her against his arm that was resting on the back of the cushions.

Taking a quick look into her eyes, he leaned his head down, closing the gap until the lips met.

Hermione moved her mouth against his, one of her hands resting across his hard chest, it feeling as if it was carved from stone.

Charlie deepened the kiss, relinquishing his tongue, letting it explore that of Hermione's. Passion burned through her, making her skin feel hot against his. She wanted to make Charlie feel good, but she wanted to do so more than with words, as he was on his way to do the same.

Their lips broke apart for a second as the two occupants caught their breath before they plunged back together again, a loan groan of pleasure emitting from Charlie's throat, deep and inviting, while at the same time being primitive and one of mounting enjoyment.

Charlie maneuvered his body downward, taking Hermione with him without breaking away, so that they lay side-by-side, Charlie pinning Hermione's back against the couch, while both of their heads rested against the armrest, pushing Phillip's book down to the floor where it crashed with a small _thump_.

Hermione relished in pure desire as one of Charlie's hands roamed down her lower back, while his other arm provided a makeshift pillow for her head to rest upon. Hermione then, taking a leap of faith, wrapped one of her legs around his, making Charlie discharge another low-sounding moan.

He broke their kiss before moving to the base of Hermione's neck, softly sucking away at her exposed skin, making her back arch against his hard body. She turned her head over to one side, giving Charlie better access as he positioned himself halfway on top of her, slowly licking and kissing his way up her neck while she wrapped both of arms around his broad shoulders, curling her hands together behind his neck, locking them in place.

"Hermione," Charlie said huskily, as he deposited wet kisses on the other side of her neck. He wasn't able to finish as he went back to foraging her mouth with his.

Hermione felt a certain pleasure building deep within her, a sensation she had never felt before. Her legs started to shudder while she unhooked her hands from each other and began grabbing and twisting at Charlie's shirt.

As they maintained their kiss, Charlie moved his legs around, making Hermione feel how much she turned him on in that very moment. However, Hermione, feeling him hard while pressed against her, suddenly snapped back to reality.

Softly pushing him away, she said, "Charlie…Charlie we have to stop before we go too far."

He hovered over her, pure lust blazing within his eyes. He stared at her for a full minute, as if he didn't comprehend what she said or what she wanted. His lips remained parted, as if they were preparing for a second round of snogging. He looked down at the position they were in, he nearly fully on top of her, his legs twisted with hers, while both of their hands were entangled with the other's top.

Finally, he nodded his head slowly, replying, "You're right…we should stop."

However, he didn't pull away from her but instead, bent his head down slowly and softly began kissing her again. This time though, Charlie poured as much passion as he could muster, making Hermione feel how much he wanted her. She became dizzy with his silent pronouncement.

Yet, as soon as it began, it had ended, as Charlie had pushed himself away from Hermione, getting off of her. She sat back up as they both resumed their positions they began in, with Hermione resting against Charlie's arm, one hand placed upon his chest.

Charlie turned his head and planted small kisses against her forehead, making her smile, even though he couldn't see it.

"I think I'm going to go crazy around you, Hermione."

She didn't respond, though she thought to herself that she was nearly all the way there with him. And while she wanted more, past the actions they had partook in minutes ago, she wanted to do things right, to take their relationship one step at a time. While Hermione didn't know how far she was willing to take things with Charlie, she felt passion for him, a desire to pleasure him and for him to pleasure her.

Several minutes later, they decided to turn in, wishing each a slightly bashful 'good night.' It took all of Hermione's strength not to go knocking upon Charlie's door and asking him to resume what they had started some minutes previous. She instead dreamt of it, her mind flooding with flashes of immense gratification, picturing how they had turned each other on, while the matter of 'braking' was nothing more than a wisp of a drafted memory. Hermione slept well that night, a large smile plastered over her face the entire time.


	19. Feeding Ground

Chapter 19: Feeding Ground

She stirred before she blinked her eyes open. As she stared up at the popcorn-littered ceiling, Hermione was feeling extremely comfortable; with her head resting upon two fluffy pillows stacked atop of each other, her body was nearly implanted into the mattress underneath her, sounding off as one of the most relaxing nights she had experienced since at least the night after the defeat of Voldemort came to a close.

Peeking over to her right, she saw the early morning rays of the sun start to beat against the window of her room, obscured by her teal-colored curtains. Her eyes raced over to a large, brown wardrobe she had conjured a day earlier, pushed against one wall that held all of her belongings, as she had also summoned her own desk, which sat against an opposite wall, though the surface of it was quite bare, except for Phillip's book he had leant back to her for a bit of light reading.

Hermione stretched her arms high over her head, letting a wide yawn escape her as she did so. Thoughts of the previous night still lingered in her mind, quite vividly if she did say so herself, yet Hermione didn't mind; in fact, the snogging session she and Charlie participated in was a fond memory to her, one that she had dreamt over and didn't want to forget about at all.

Hermione turned over onto her side and smiled into her pillow, remembering how Charlie had kissed her, how much passion he laid bare for her to see, how he moved against her, and how he pleasured her. She understood that Charlie's experience did him well, as she had no doubt there was never a dry spot with him, and she hoped that he thought she was able to hold her own, though her practice, or lack thereof, left more to be desired.

Of course, passion knew no bounds and had no parameters of which to act within, and if there ever came a time when Hermione had to confront her whispering doubts about herself and her actions, making do with Charlie would be opportune for her to conquer them.

Just then, Hermione's stomach growled lowly, making her insides vibrate in delicate hunger. Whiffs of food floated into her head, making Hermione realize how hungry she was at that moment. However, there was only one problem: she was too comfortable to move. She had the notion that her mattress was that of a regular nature, yet it seemed to possess a different attitude during the night and early morning.

Realizing though that time was ticking by at a rate by which it would not slow down, Hermione mustered all of her energy she had to sit up in her bed. Though there was no mirror nearby (as the closest one was in her joining bathroom), she felt her mess of hair stick out in different directions, being just as unruly as it ever was. How she wished there was just a simple spell she could use to tame her wild locks. Although they defined her in her Hogwarts years, Hermione was becoming less tolerable to what she looked like in the morning: it was a look of simple death. Her father used to joke with her, saying that he was surprised that her mirror hadn't broken every time she looked at it with the first light.

As Hermione scoffed slightly over her father's well-mannered, yet poorly executed hilarity, a knock was heard upon her door.

Hermione's first instinct was to ask, 'Who is it,' yet she stopped herself after recalling that she and Charlie were the homes' only two occupants. Instead, she went with, "Yes?"

"Hermione, are you awake," Charlie quietly asked, his voice rumbling in the deep, though sounding as if he had been up for quite some time.

"Yes, but I'm not decent," she responded, trying to discipline her out-of-control brown hair with unimpressive results.

"You don't have to be, I just wanted to bring you some breakfast."

Hermione stopped with her hair as she repeated, "Breakfast?"

"Yeah, I cooked us up a few things before work," he explained.

"Oh, um, well you can come in then," she said lightly, while her stomach grumbled against her again, smiling with the fact that she actually wasn't imagining the strong scent of food that she inhaled some moments previous.

Her bedroom door opened a smidgen, as Charlie poke his head around it, making sure he wasn't going to be walking in on anything inappropriate that would cause Hermione alarm. When he saw her sitting on her bed, looking innocently at him, he smiled as he pushed open the door wider, as a tray of food and two steaming cups of tea floated in before him, following his pointed wand.

"'Morning," he remarked cheerfully.

"Good morning," she responded, grinning.

"How did you sleep," he questioned, as he set the fully tray of food down upon Hermione's bed, looking down at her.

"Well, actually."

"You sound surprised."

"I am."

"And why is that?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, relaying, "I just thought I conjured a regular mattress for myself yesterday. I didn't think there was anything special about it, but after sleeping on it, I don't think I ever felt better rested than right now."

She looked up to see Charlie fighting a smile, as if he had told himself a private joke and was laughing over it.

However, she quickly caught on, as she queried, "What did you do to it?"

Charlie laughed softly, his shoulders moving up and down under his white t-shirt, as he folded his arms over his chest.

"I might have tampered with it a bit," he finally stated, "in a good way, of course."

"Tampered how?"

"I remember when I was young and I got sick, my mum used this spell to make my bed extremely cozy so that I could rest more pleasantly; she did it for all of us actually, whenever we were sick or injured. When I first started working on the dragon reserve over in Romania, I had trouble sleeping for the first several nights. I wrote home about it and she told me of the spell she used. Never lost any sleep with it in place since then, and I thought you would like it," he detailed, jutting out his lower lip when he finished.

"Well, your mum does know how to bring on a restful night," Hermione agreed, "it felt amazing."

"Glad to know that I did my job well then," he said, nodding his head towards one side, making Hermione laugh.

Her eyes then traveled down the full tray of food Charlie had prepared.

"You made all of this?"

"Yep, everything," he told her. "Do you mind if I take a seat?"

"Oh, no, not at all," she relented, as he sat opposite her with the breakfast platter separating them. Hermione looked down and saw that Charlie had made sausages, mushrooms, and eggs.

"Help yourself," he said, gesturing with a slight nod of his head towards the serving of food.

"Thanks," Hermione responded, gathering up a fork and knife in her hands as she started to feast away, placating her growling stomach.

Charlie smiled as he himself started to dig in, munching away in contentment.

"This is good," Hermione commented after several calm moments of quiet, "I thought you said that you were good at making desserts?"

"Hermione, I'm a man of many talents, cooking and baking being two of my specialties," he retorted lightly.

"Where did you learn how to cook?"

"It's not that hard really; all you have to do is wave your wand around," he relented before taking a full helping of egg.

Hermione snorted, "Honestly, if it was that easy, I'm sure any witch or wizard could be a five-wand chef."

Charlie tossed his head left and right, looking like a small boat frolicking within the waves of a vast ocean, replying, "It's more of an art about how you wave your wand. It's not some silly, nonsensical movement, you know."

"I wouldn't know actually. I'm not much of a chef," Hermione responded. "My dad was the one who cooked back at home."

Charlie set down his fork as he looked over at Hermione who seemed as if she was mentally recalling a fond memory.

After a minute, he questioned quietly, "I remember you telling me that before. Was he good?"

"One of the best," she answered. "His specialty was Shepherd's Pie and English Trifle."

"Hmm, I love English Trifle," Charlie stated, a small smile displayed over his face.

"I do too," Hermione agreed. "You know, we should try and make it one night. We bought a lot of ingredients yesterday."

Charlie cocked his head to one side, before he said with a pointed finger directed at her, "I'm going to take you up on that offer, Hermione. I could teach you some things in the kitchen."

"How…by showing me how to wave one's wand artistically in the air?"

Charlie barked out a laugh, bending his head towards his chest.

"You think you're funny, don't you," he quipped.

"I like to think so," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Hey, I got an idea: since you think you're so good with a joke, how about you go work with Fred and George?"

"I could do that, and then you would be left all alone in Wales. But you make a fair point to consider. Maybe I'll do that."

Charlie looked as if he had been doused with cold water amidst a deep slumber.

"Wait a moment…," he started, "maybe that isn't the best idea after all."

Now Hermione took her turn to laugh, Charlie's facial expressions the origin of her amusement.

"Actually, I did want to talk to you about something a bit more serious," Hermione announced after a beat.

"Okay, shoot it at me," Charlie relayed, clapping his hands together and running them as if he was warming himself up on a winter's eve.

"Are the dragon pens here the same as they are in Romania with TAP?"

Charlie shook his head from left to right, "No, it's a bit different in Wales. You see, this dragon reserve doesn't even have half of the number of beasts that Romania does. It's just a precaution for all new reserves to be only a quarter filled until it can prove itself capable of handling a large number of dragons. Since we have a lot of land to work with, the individual pens are bigger than TAP, and on top of that, there's no separation of the encampment based upon dragon classification."

"So all of the dragons are kept in one area?"

"Yeah, but like I said, the individual enclosures are a lot bigger."

"Do you know how many dragons are on the reserve?"

Charlie looked at a spot above Hermione's head at her question, as she saw him move his mouth soundlessly, counting off the number.

"Not including the four dragon eggs in the hatching tent, there's ten dragons. That's why there aren't as many workers here as in Romania. But in time, it'll grow."

"And about how many dragons are there in Romania," Hermione asked.

"We had nearly sixty-three."

"Sixty-three," Hermione exclaimed, her eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets.

"Close to it," Charlie supported.

Hermione was surprised to find out that that many dragons were kept on the reserve. She knew that the encampment in Romania was the largest in all of Europe but had no idea how able-bodied it was to manage that many beasts.

"But just because a camp is large doesn't mean it's better. With ours, we're able to give our friends a much wider berth that resemble their natural habitats. It's pretty cool, actually, the pens that I've seen," Charlie said. "With a large number of dragons, we couldn't do anything like that, as you've seen in Romania."

"If each site is a duplicate of a different environment for the dragons, how are they all separated? Isn't much of the land here used up in that way?"

"It's by magic," Charlie proposed, a light smile ghosting his face.

Hermione rolled her eyes at his attempt at a joke before he gave in, "We altered the land usage a bit, but to separate the habitats that are vastly different, we charmed the air around each enclosure. Therefore, we can have an Antipodean Opaleye grazing in a valley, situated right next to Peruvian Vipertooth scaling the side of a jagged mountain. You'll see when we go out there later; it's rather incredible."

"It definitely sounds like it," Hermione conceded.

"Speaking of the dragons, we should start to get ready to go see 'em," Charlie then suggested. "Dragons are early risers. Also, I don't know if you've checked out your schedule in detail but we are on the feeding ground tomorrow."

"I did see that actually but didn't know what that meant."

"It means we feed the beasts breakfast, lunch, and dinner starting tomorrow and throughout the rest of the week," Charlie explained. "But we'll worry about that tomorrow."

Hermione smiled as she nodded her head.

"Thank you for making breakfast, Charlie; it really was delicious."

"Well, it wasn't hard to do but I'm glad you liked it."

After flashing her a large grin, he waved his wand about, making the empty tray of dishes and tea cups float before him as he exited Hermione's room, shutting the door softly behind him.

Hermione threw her covers off of her, and (much to her own dismay), climbed off of her tampered bed and into the joining washroom, taking turns to wash her face, brush her teeth, and fix about her hair, in which she ended up tying in a sloppy ponytail. After dressing, she walked out of her room just as Charlie made his way out of his own.

"Nice timing," he said looking over at her. "Let's go."

Hermione nodded as she took hold of his outstretched hand, her heart warming to his touch, sending rapid-fire signals racing all throughout her body. She smiled at the sensation it caused her to feel, skin on skin, as Charlie squeezed her hand once as they left their home.

Warm tufts of air washed over the pair as they set off down the deep red lane that wound itself through the homes, while small white clouds partially dotted the sky above. The sun was rising higher and higher albeit at a slow rate, while several other workers mumbled their own ''Mornings' over at Charlie and Hermione, yawning through their closed fists.

Charlie and Hermione soon joined in with the purple cobblestone pathway as they hiked up the incline and out of the valley, the trees becoming closer and closer together.

They walked into the wide clearing that housed the Center of Directions and the hatching tent, before Charlie led Hermione into a large gap within the trees she had seen both Terrance and Phillip enter into the previous day.

Beyond the gap, Hermione noticed that the trees began to crowd in closer around them, as the nearness of the overhead branches partially blocked out the light from up above.

Charlie and Hermione stepped over a skinny creek, its waters being shoved about against rough stones, before running down a sloping hill and depositing into a wider stream that rushed off out of the sight.

After walking between two massive trees, the bodies of dragons carved within its rough bark, Hermione gasped at the scene before her: it was as if she had stumbled upon a colossal stage, it being divided into separate and distinct open-air chambers.

Not caring that she was gaping open-mouthed at what her eyes were upon, Hermione saw a dragon foraging about upon a chain of green valleys, while next to it, another dragon was flying around under a raging blizzard, though not one pellet of snow entered into the thick foliage of a moist rainforest that was fixed beside it. It was as if an invisible, impenetrable curtain separated each enclosure, as the dragons themselves were unaware of how close they actually were to each other.

"Charlie, this is unbelievable," Hermione gasped out, finally managing to form words.

"It is," he concurred. "Each individual pen seems larger to the dragon residing in it than it really is."

"Through wand-waving magic?"

"Through wand-waving magic," he repeated with a wink. "We go to each enclosure on broomsticks."

"Broomsticks?"

Charlie nodded his head as he said, "Yeah but we won't be on them until tomorrow when we feed them. So, do you ready to meet some dragons?"

* * *

Later that night, Charlie and Hermione were dancing around each other in the kitchen of their home, though Charlie had his index finger in his mouth after he burned it on the stove while heating cream in a saucepan for their English Trifle they were putting together.

Hermione just pulled out a baking sheet covered in almonds, curls loosening from the hold Hermione placed on it as they framed her face, which had small flecks of jam resting upon her chin.

"See this isn't so bad, is it," Hermione asked, turning to look at Charlie who was stirring the cream.

"Speak for yourself but you weren't the one that got burned," he pouted with his index finger still in his mouth.

"Honestly, if you paid a bit more attention, I had already told you I turned on the stove. And really, who checks if the stove is hot by putting their whole hand on it?"

"Obviously that would be me," he retorted, as he finished stirring, letting the cream cool.

Seeing Hermione's jam-covered chin, Charlie started laughing.

"What," she questioned, looking at Charlie as if he'd lost his mind from his sudden outburst.

Pointing a finger, he said, "You have jam on your chin."

"Jam on my…," Hermione started, raking the tips of two of her fingers over where Charlie indicated, scraping off small bits of red.

"Hang on," Charlie started, grabbing both of Hermione's hands in his, "let me help."

Before Hermione could register the meaning his words, Charlie leaned in and softly set his lips upon her chin, making Hermione stiffen. Ever so slowly, as she felt the tip of Charlie's tongue lick away at her skin, removing the jam she was stopped from doing away with, she melted into him. He released her hands as she wrapped them around his waist while he pulled her against his body, still sucking away at her chin, his eyes never leaving hers, but instead, holding them with his.

Hermione had the thought that there really wasn't as much jam on her chin than Charlie was seemingly sabotaging, yet she didn't protest, not when she felt a fire initiate inside of her. Finishing off with a kiss to her newly-cleaned chin, he pulled back and announced brightly, "Got all of it off of you."

Charlie smiled before he turned away from her, taking the custard-filled saucepan and setting it upon the table, where he began to spread over three resting sponge cakes.

Hermione placed her fingers over where she still felt Charlie kiss and lick away at, her heat beating a mile per minute due to his intimate jam elimination technique. She was flustered and Charlie knew that she was; it then dawned upon Hermione that it was his goal to make her feel that way, to make her want more, much more.

After he layered the cake in a round bowl, Hermione carried over a small plate which held fresh berries the pair had cut up in halves earlier. They then placed the fruit atop of the cream (Hermione's hands shaking a bit) before Charlie took it and set it in the fridge to cool.

"That was a lot easier than I thought would be," Charlie announced, looking over at Hermione with a boyish grin. "How long do we have to wait until we can eat it?"

"Two hours," Hermione answered.

"That long," Charlie neared cried out. "Well…what are we to do until then," he asked innocently.

With this, Hermione looked down at the tiled floor of the kitchen she was standing upon before he slowly worked up her gaze at Charlie. She walked over to him at a slow, reserved pace, while Charlie eyed her suspiciously.

"I think I might have something in mind," Hermione whispered, drawing closer and closer to the second-oldest Weasley son.

"Really," he inquired, quirking up his brow. "And what would that be?"

Without answering, Hermione stopped in front of him, looking into his bright blue eyes, as she reached out with both of her hands and set them upon his chest; she smirked when she felt him tighten underneath her touch.

He looked down at himself where her hands were placed before Hermione slowly grabbed a handful of his fingers. She led him over to the living area and onto the couch where they both sat down facing one another.

Charlie gazed over at her with complete, unadulterated lust over his face. Hermione could he was itching to reach for her, to pull her against him and complete what they had started the previous night, but he was holding back, willing to submit himself to how she wanted to proceed.

"What did you have in mind, Hermione," Charlie asked again, taking a gulp.

She leisurely leaned forward, never breaking eye contact with Charlie, as she grazed her lips over his, letting them linger against his.

"What I had in mind…was that I'm going to…," she paused, as she nearly saw a burning blaze dance within Charlie's irises. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hands were nearly reaching forward to grab her.

"Hermione," Charlie urged, his voice nearly pleading with her.

She smirked before she answered, "What I had in mind was that I'm going to continue reading Phillip's book he lent to me yesterday."

With that, Hermione got up off of the couch.

"Wait…what," she heard Charlie mumble faintly, as if he was in a daze.

Hermione tried to stifle her laugher as she walked down the hall towards her room to retrieve Phillip's book.

Of course, Hermione had planned to lead Charlie on, but it wasn't as if she felt bad about it. After all, he was the one who kicked things off by removing the jam she had on her face with his tongue. She decided that Charlie needed a quick lesson in karma, something she only too willing to dish out.

Just as Hermione reached for the knob to her room door, she sensed movement behind her. Turning around, she saw Charlie playfully grab Hermione around her waist and pull her against him, asking, "What was that back there?"

"Charlie, what are you talking about," she feigned.

He turned around and backed her up until she was against one wall, his body flushed against hers. She inwardly whimpered feeling his hardness.

"You little minx, I didn't know you had it in you," he exclaimed.

"Charlie, you are not making any sense. What on earth are you on about?"

"Oh, what am I on about," he snickered humorlessly, "did you think you could pull one over on me and get away with it?"

"I don't know if you know this but I already beat you," Hermione replied, feeling her own teasing nature well up inside of her.

"No," he said, shaking his head quickly from side to side, "it's not over until I say it is."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Take it however you like, Hermione, but I cannot be bested."

"I think you already were."

"We could go all night back and forth; I'm quite comfortable in this position, are you," he posed.

"More comfortable as I'll ever be," she fired back without breaking the pace they had set up, though she was nearly losing the battle to break out in laughter after seeing the look cross over Charlie's face.

Just as he was about to retort, a loud knock was heard upon their front door. They both froze, neither willing to break their game of wit.

"I think someone's at the door, Charlie," Hermione told him ingenuously.

"You're a smart bird, aren't you?"

The knock was heard again, louder this time.

"Are you going to answer it," she asked him, as he still had her pushed against a wall, his body framing hers in place.

"Charlie, you lazy sod! Open up…I have something to tell you," yelled that of Terrance's voice.

Charlie sighed in defeat, resting his forehead against Hermione's, the two sharing a breath between them.

"Terrance'll be there all night if I don't open up," Charlie relayed, his voice hinted with drops of bitterness. As he pushed away from her, he pointed a finger at her and said, "This isn't over, just so you know. I'm onto you, Hermione, and next time I won't even think to play fair."

He smirked over at her as he walked back down the hall and towards the front door while Hermione retreated into her room.

After she heard Charlie and Terrance greet one another, Hermione smiled at her sense of funniness she enjoyed with Charlie. Her playful side was something that she had only begun to recently tap into, mainly through Ginny's persistence.

When she first started Hogwarts, Hermione took it upon herself to inherit as much knowledge as she could about the wizarding world; that included reading about every subject matter, learning extensive magic, and becoming a powerful witch. Of course, reigning at the top of her class didn't come easy to her; it took a lot of hard work and sleepless nights. Yet, Hermione knew that she always took schooling rather serious…more formal than what was natural – though she never minded. The drive to succeed weighed substantially down on her shoulders, which increased in heaviness as she tried to keep Harry alive. Her own sense of humor was drowned amidst horrific escapades she, Harry, and Ron all had a part in.

But, since the end of the war, while she was still feeling the aftershocks from all that she had endured, a new sentiment of wittiness emerged, mainly when she was in the company of Charlie. It was a feeling she didn't feel with anyone else: with Ron, Hermione felt as if they constantly fought, which they did, yet that suppressed her more light-hearted attitude; with Harry, although she was best friends with him, there was always a heavy atmosphere that he was encircled in, an ambiance that wasn't his fault as it purged his life catastrophes into heaps of turmoil and black tragedies; even with Viktor Krum, silence descended on the pair nearly every time they got together, as he preferred to watch Hermione study – an act that made her thoroughly uncomfortable.

With Charlie, everything was different. She felt it since the first night they had a real conversation outside the Burrow. Starting off initially as relaxed words, their relationship had since morphed into playfulness with allusions to mischievousness, a manner Hermione was slowly becoming more accustomed to, and it was a temperament she found she enjoyed.

She then heard the front door close followed by quietness. Finding it odd that Charlie and Terrance had finished their talk so quickly, she reappeared in the hall to find Charlie making his way back towards her room.

"Terrance left already," Hermione questioned.

"Yeah, he just stopped by to tell me something."

"What was it?"

"Our good friend, Sprought, is coming to the reserve for several days the day after tomorrow," Charlie answered acidly.

"Sprought…the man that questioned us about what happened in Woan?"

"The very same," Charlie responded.

"But why is he coming to a dragon reserve? By the way he acted towards us and Director Mulligan, I would think that he had every intention of staying as far away as possible," Hermione posed.

"Terrance heard from Director Mulligan that Sprought said it was his duty as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic to stop by and see how the new reserve was getting along. A bit of rubbish really as no one from our Ministry ever went over to Romania to see how well it was going."

"Well just because he'll be here doesn't mean we have to talk with him at all," Hermione relayed.

"Most definitely but something tells me he's coming here for an entirely different reason that has nothing to do with his job responsibilities," Charlie voiced, resting his hands on his hips, looking at the wall next to him.

"Let's not worry about him," Hermione proposed. "There's no point in doing so."

Charlie looked over at her for a long moment before he nodded his head in concurrence.

Some two hours later, Charlie and Hermione retrieved their self-made English Trifle from the fridge, as Charlie cut a piece for both of them to share, before he doused it in a whipped cream. The two ate together, both finding it both savory and sweet, before they decided to tuck into bed.

As Hermione lay in upon her mattress that night, she was smiling over Charlie planting a kiss on her forehead for a restful sleep, yet when it came, Hermione dreamed of Sprought and the purple and orange crossing found upon the eggs' shell of the unborn Victorian Shalers.

* * *

Hermione awoke the next morning to a light tapping noise. Gradually letting her eyes slowly open, she craned her neck towards the source of noise to see the silhouettes two owls behind her closed curtains of her room's window, framed against the morning sun.

Rolling towards her nightstand, Hermione grabbed her wand and waved it. The teal curtains parted down the middle and swished off to opposite sides while her window opened, emitting two owls, Pigwidgeon and Onyx, a deathly black bird that belonged to Harry, after Hedwig had perished during a fight with Death Eaters over Little Whinging, fluttered inside.

Pigwidgeon gave a merry _hoot_ as he flew over and circled Hermione's head excitedly, while Onyx flapped over and rested on her headboard in a calm manner. Hermione noticed that both owls had letters tied to their legs.

She easily claimed the envelope Onyx carried while Pigwidgeon was more of a struggle, as the bird refused to calm down.

"Pigwidgeon, stay still," Hermione instructed quietly, as she didn't want to wake Charlie in case he was still sleeping.

After untying the letter from Pigwidgeon, Hermione looked over at the two owls and commented, "You two are probably hungry. Let's go to the kitchen and I'll get you something to eat and drink."

Pigwidgeon gave another loud _hoot_ while Onyx flew onto Hermione's shoulder, seeming to approve of her treatment of him.

Hermione exited her room and made her way towards the kitchen with Onyx composed on her shoulder, while Pigwidgeon carelessly kept bumping into the hallway's walls.

Hermione sat herself down at the kitchen table while the two birds feasted away on small treats and water she provided them with.

Opening the topmost letter, Hermione looked over it and began:

 _Hermione,_

 _I hope you have settled comfortably down in Wales on the new dragon reserve! Hogwarts feels so different now, almost horrific remembering everything that happened at the end of last term. Other than that, school is back to normal as usual. Headmistress McGonagall actually asked me how you were doing right after the opening feast, too! Also, Harry sent me a letter, asking how I was doing and how my classes are. I miss him but I think waiting to start back with him was the right decision, right? I don't know…maybe it was wrong to make him wait until I finished Hogwarts – I'm having second thoughts about that. By the way, how is Charlie treating you? You tell me any wrong he does to you and he'll receive a Bat-Bogey Hex from his favorite sister, but something tells me that won't be necessary. I think that there's more going between you two than you guys are letting on but maybe I'm just imagining the whole thing. Write back soon, Hermione, and don't be a stranger!_

 _-Ginny_

Hermione smiled at Ginny's letter as she set it down and opened the other envelope. However, before she could start reading, she heard the sound of a door opening paired together with a loud yawn. A second later, Charlie came into sight, scratching the back of his head. Hermione smiled up at him, taking note of his watery eyes, his tousled, short red hair, and a smile.

"Good morning," she said.

"'Morning yourself," he teased back with a smirk. Turning towards the stove, he noticed the two owls on the counter. "Ginny send something?"

"Ginny and Harry," Hermione replied as Charlie prepared to make tea, as he filled a kettle with water and set it to boil, while pulling down two mugs.

"Oh yeah? What'd she say?"

"See for yourself," Hermione answered, pushing Ginny's letter across the table, closer to where Charlie was currently standing.

He picked her note up in both of his hands, as his blue eyes scanned the parchment quickly as he leaned back against the counter. After a quiet moment, Charlie started laughing. Shaking his head from side to side, he set the letter back down and said, "I don't think I'll have to worry about Ginny's Bat-Bogey Hex. I treat you well, don't I?"

"Presumably," Hermione responded. "But just one wrong move Mr. Weasley and who knows what'll happen then?"

"YOu know, when I first talked to you, I thought you were coy. Turns out that you can be as fierce as the dragons on the reserve; don't think that I forgot about last night."

Hermione scoffed lightly, shaking off his comment, before she started to read what Harry wrote to her.

 _Hermione,_

 _How are you? How's the dragon reserve in Wales? Auror training so far this week has been incredible. We've moved on to defense training and I know that you would've loved it. Ron, on the other hand…not so much. He gets a bit worse every day and he didn't even show up to class yesterday. But he did tell me that he wants to stop; his mind is really set on working with Fred and George. The only problem is that he's not going to tell his mum about it. His plan is to keep acting as if he's going to Auror training when he's really going to be in Diagon Alley. While I don't support how he's going on about this, I think this might be the best option for him to take. I'm telling you this because Ron's our best friend but he didn't think to write to you just in case you went to Mrs. Weasley about it. I think everything will work out fine…in the end. Talk soon._

 _-Harry_

When Hermione finished Harry's letter, she read it back over again with a bag of mixed emotions jostling around inside of her. On one hand, she was supportive of Ron in that he was taking the necessary steps to ensure his own happiness of what he wanted to do with his life. On the other hand, she felt downcast at the thought that Ron would keep something like this from her just because he wanted to avoid his mum's wrath. Even though she and Ron decided to not pursue a romantic relationship with one another, they did agree on being friends, yet Ron's actions, or lack thereof, diverted onto a whole separate path, one in which she was unsure where it would lead them to.

"What did Harry have to say," Charlie asked after setting down two steaming cups of tea on the table and taking a seat opposite her.

"It's actually mostly about your brother," Hermione reacted.

"Ron?"

Hermione nodded her head wordlessly as she handed over the letter.

She watched Charlie scan it quickly, seeing his eyebrows shoot up in surprise before he issued out a low whistle.

"I didn't think Ron had it in him, to pull something like this over mum's eyes. It'll never work though," Charlie stated, looking over at Hermione.

"Probably not but at least Ron is doing something that he think will make him happy. I've been wondering ever since Harry told me that Ron dislikes Auror training that maybe Ron feels pressured to live up to what he faced in the war. I mean, there were so many times we ran into Death Eaters and fighting and Ron may feel as if people expect him to continue on with facing enemies. It's possible that we've all been somewhat ignorant in supporting Ron, and instead we should let him do what he wants to do."

Charlie sipped his tea while keeping his eyes trained on Hermione.

"You think that's it," he questioned.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, saying, "I don't know for sure but possibly." Hermione felt herself frown before she took a large swig of her own tea." Thanks for the this by the way."

"Tea is probably one of the easiest things to make," Charlie retorted. "I'm sure anyone could make it on their sleep."

"Not everyone," Hermione supplied.

"Who do you have in mind?"

"My mum," she responded simply.

"Your mum," Charlie inquired. "She can't make tea?"

Hermione laughed, "Charlie, my mum can barely make toast. I love her and all but she's honestly one of the worst cooks, that's why my dad was the chef at home."

"She couldn't have been that bad," Charlie suggested.

"She used to refer to a burnt piece of chicken as being 'only black on one side,'" Hermione regaled making Charlie snicker into his tea mug. "She's not a good cook but she's good at other things, like painting and sculpting. She made the most beautiful things."

"Hermione," Charlie started tenderly, setting down his cup and reaching for Hermione's hands across the table, "I know you want to wait to get your parents back and I respect that decision. But when you do, I want to go with you."

Hermione looked at him sincerely as she nearly whispered, "You don't have to come to Charlie."

"I know I don't, but I want to. I want to be there with you and for you."

At that moment, Charlie looked vulnerable – a look she would never even think to juxtapose him with. There was something in his eyes that told her a different story, more than what he was letting on but she didn't know what it was.

"Why?"

Charlie's brows pulled together in confusion as he asked back, "Why what?"

"Why do you want to come with me?"

He let out a low sigh before he enlightened, "I know that you miss your parents, Hermione; I can see it in your eyes when you talk about them. I don't…," he paused as he looked away from her before he focused his eyes on hers once again, "I don't like to see you suffer. What hurts you hurts me and I don't want you to feel any pain. Maybe I'm being too forward…I dunno but I just want to see you happy."

Hermione gave a small smile as she cast her eyes down to her lap, her heart warming against the current of his admission.

She looked back up at him and stated, "That means a lot."

"Well, you mean a lot to me," he replied.

In the next moment, the pair leaned over across the table, Harry and Ginny's letters scattered between them, while Pigwidgeon and Onyx looked on, and shared a kiss.

* * *

After Hermione sent the two owls away to their respective owners with replies of her own, Charlie informed Hermione that he would be taking her out to feed the various dragons.

Walking towards the dragon pens under a bright sunshine, nerves infiltrated Hermione's system.

"So how exactly do we go about doing this," she questioned, her hand clasped within his.

"It's simple actually," he informed her. "We ride on brooms to the different dragon pens and give them their food, which consists of a whole lot of meat."

"We can't levitate it into each site," Hermione asked.

"No; the charms we placed over each pen prevents us from doing that," Charlie said back. "It's a complicated process that even I don't completely know about."

"Okay, so we ride on broomsticks to each enclosure. But how do we carry all the food around?"

"Well first things first: did you want to ride on your own broom?"

"Is there another option that's available?"

"You could ride behind me," Charlie offered, looking over at her with a certain hopefulness in his eyes.

"But how would we carry around the food if we rode together?"

"We transform the meat down to a smaller size and carry it around in a small bag that's attached to the broom. When we fly over the enclosures, you or I could levitate each carcass of meat out of the pouch and place it in front of the dragon, after we enlarge them back to their original states of course," Charlie explained.

"And should we anticipate each dragon looking for its food?"

"Sure thing…it's breakfast time for them. That's the tricky part though: all of the dragons think we are part of their food. We have to make sure that whoever files the broom is able to navigate their way around so that we don't get roasted by dragon fire," Charlie responded with light humor.

"Maybe I'll ride with you then," Hermione said.

"You don't have to be nervous, Hermione. This is a normal routine each handler has to make. We usually do it in pairs so it'll just be you and I out there. Also, not to raise my own goblet or anything but I'm pretty good flier."

"Just so you know," Hermione began, a sly smile forming over her face, "I don't fly unless the pilot is considered an expert."

Charlie barked out laughter, turning his head towards her and challenging, "Really, Miss Granger? And what if I'm classified below that title?"

She shrugged her shoulders and retorted, "I guess you'll have to find yourself another partner to deliver breakfast with."

Charlie laughed again before he unclasped Hermione's hand and instead wrapped an arm over her shoulder, pulling her against his side and kissing the top of her head.

"Funny, but I'm an expert at flying," he said.

Some moments later, the couple entered the Center of Directions and saw Terrance and Phillip had already gathered there.

"'Mione! Char!" Phillip's face brightened when he saw the pair.

"Charlie, Hermione," Terrance greeted with a nod of his head in a more subdued manner.

"What's up you two," Charlie asked (Hermione gave small wave of her hand), before he lead her over to the center of the pavilion where a large table rested that had a map fixated on its surface of the enclosures, as tiny pictures of dragons rested within each one, letting the handlers know where each beast was at any given time. Hermione noted that this map looked identical to the one she saw back in Romania.

"So Terrance and Phillip will look out for us this morning when we're feeding," Charlie said.

"Look out for us?"

"It's pretty simple," Terrance started, folding his arms over his chest and looking over at Hermione. "When you and Charlie go out to the pens, a red dot will appear on the map that allows us to track your movements. If anything goes wrong, like a rogue dragon or something of the sort, we'll know about it and send help to get you both out of their and to safety."

"I wouldn'a worry too much, 'Mione," Phillip chirped in, "there hasn't been any problems with feedin' the dragons in months!"

Hermione looked over at Phillip and nodded her head, giving him a warm smile. Terrance noticed this and seemed to tense which did not go unnoticed by Charlie as quiet filled the tent.

Before the awkward silence could further descend itself down upon the party, Charlie proposed, "Well, I guess we should head out then."

Phillip nodded his head in agreement before he turned to one corner and handed Charlie a small lumpy bag.

"Is that their food," Hermione questioned.

"Yep, the meat has already been shrunk down," Phillip told her. "That's what Terry and I were doing right before ya got here."

Terrance did his part and handed Charlie a broomstick, who dipped his head in 'thanks.'

"Come on, the longer we stall, the hungrier and more rabid those dragons become," Charlie said, holding the broom and dragon meat pouch in one hand while his other found Hermione's once again.

As they exited the tent, Hermione suddenly felt a pair of eyes on her back. Turning her head around, she saw Phillip had started babbling away to Terrance, yet his talk seemed to fall on deaf ears as Terrance continued to stare after Hermione with a dark look in his eyes, his arms folded over his chest. She retracted her gaze from him, feeling a bit troublesome.

Once outside the Center of Directions, Charlie stopped walking and elucidated, "We can actually fly from here. Let me just tie the bag to the end of the broom." As he did so, he looked up at Hermione and continued, "When I tell you, all you have to do is open the bag and take out one piece of meat – you can use your wand if you want. When you toss the meat towards each dragon, hit it with an engorgement charm. That should do the trick, and remember to hold on tight. You've seen before that these dragons don't care about playing fair."

Hermione nodded her head in understanding, remembering the Romanian Longhorn they retrieved from the Castle of Stone and its viciousness that it unleashed upon its rescuers.

"Well, if you're ready, I think we can head out now," Charlie announced after a moment. "What do you say?"

"I'm ready," Hermione stated.

"Well climb aboard, Miss Granger, and let's go serve these dragons their breakfast."

Charlie mounted his broomstick while Hermione got on behind him before Charlie shot off within the gap of the trees leading to the enclosures. They zigzagged between the trunks of the trees, the sunlight from up above limited due to the closeness of the overhead branches. They quickly flew over the skinny creek Hermione saw the day before and in between the dragon-carved barks, entering upon the stage of dragon enclosures set before them.

"You ready," Charlie queried back to Hermione over his shoulder.

"I think so," Hermione gulped.

"We'll be fine, Hermione. Just remember to hold on tight."

And without another second's hesitation, the broomstick they were riding upon, shot off like a rocket, the force so great that it shoved Hermione backward a few inches, which only made her cling to Charlie's middle more tightly. The wind screamed in her ears while each lock of her hair seemed to wrestle each other, creating an unruly mess Hermione was sure she would later spend hours untangling.

Suddenly, the broomstick stopped its speedy and feral flight, as Charlie called out, "Hermione, are your eyes open?"

"No," she said back to him, as she had since ducked behind Charlie's back.

"Well look below you!"

"Charlie, I don't think-," Hermione started to say before she was cut off.

"Hermione, trust me," he said to her.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione popped open one eyelid before she opened her second and gasped.

Sitting below Charlie and Hermione's dangling feet was all of the individual dragon enclosures. Each pen looked as if it was one slice of a large pie as the dragon sites together formed a large circle. The most intriguing aspect, however, was the habitat of each locale: snow, rain, mountains, valleys, rivers, and flooded forests populated each state. The site was mesmerizing to Hermione as she had never seen anything like it before.

"The view's even more beautiful from up here," Hermione positioned.

"I couldn't agree more," Charlie replied fondly. "Anyway, I wanted to show you this but we're a bit behind schedule. Let's get to it!"

Charlie then zoomed off, Hermione emitting a loud, high-pitched scream from the broomstick's sudden acceleration.

They both dived down and first entered a desert landscape, fixed with a rocky ridge and an oddly-shaped large rock.

"Go on, Hermione," Charlie breathed back to her, as he hovered the broom in the air, while the large sun of the pen beat down upon them in waves of heat. Hermione reached behind her and opened the breakfast bag. Levitating out a thick slab of meat, she enlarged it in midair and let it drop upon the sands below. Not even a second after it landed with a soft _thud_ was it attacked by the oddly-shaped rock, which turned out to be a dragon. As the hide was being ripped apart, Charlie proclaimed, "Onto the next."

Charlie maneuvered his broomstick out of the dessert landscape and into a freezing blizzard, large pellets of snow falling all around them against a dark sky while the wind ripped around them in loud shrills. Charlie flew around, his eyes darting over the snow-covered scenery below, looking of the dragon that was somewhere underneath.

"Charlie, over there," Hermione identified with the pointing of her finger. He looked over as they both saw the tail of a silver dragon disappear into a large cave, supposedly seeking shelter against the harsh climate that had befallen the pen.

"Okay, Hermione, he'll come out to get his food!"

Hermione turned again, levitated then enlarged the meat before letting it drop upon the snow below, where it created a cloud of white when it landed.

As the silver beast emerged and started to pick away at it, Charlie flew out of the whiteout and into a heavy downpour within a large forest.

Charlie and Hermione were instantly drenched, their clothes and hairs sticking to their bodies. Shaking from the cold that had enraptured her, Hermione looked above and saw dull, grey clouds hanging in the sky while below, she saw that the jungle they were in was apparently flooded with rain, brown murky waters rushing against the bark of each tree in sight.

Suddenly, within the waters below, a great dragon covered in black and bright green scales moved about, a low roar emitting from its throat.

"This one's hungry, Hermione, hurry!"

Hermione, now starting to shake violently, retrieved a piece of meat from the bag and enlarged it. However, no sooner than she did this that the dragon turned its head and spotted Charlie and Hermione's position above it.

Abruptly, the dragon lunged at them, as Charlie, with the speed of lightning, moved them out of harm's way, though in the process, the portion of meat fell out of Hermione's grasp. Getting her bearings about her, Hermione pointed her wand at the falling carcass and enlarged it, just before the great dragon opened its mouth and swallowed it whole.

"Nicely done," Charlie exclaimed, prior to whizzing between the trees, the heavy rain continuing to bombard them.

Hermione didn't respond as she was looking to which pen they would enter next. Her answer came quickly for she and Charlie were now flying over a seemingly endless valley of green dotted with large lakes in random spots, the sky here colored in blue and pink, with a warm chill floating around them.

"I think he's over there," Charlie said, nodding his head over towards his far right. Venturing over, they saw that he was right as a dark green dragon's head was lowered as it took in water from a nearby body of water.

"Let it away, Hermione!"

Hermione did as she was instructed, letting the enlarged carcass land softly upon the grass next the dragon.

Afterwards, Charlie and Hermione entered a scenery dominated by a jagged mountain chain, setting loose two chunks of meat for the mating dragons that resided within the mass of rock. This was followed by letting loose another carcass amidst the sloping hillside of a bamboo forest, as their tour ended with feeding the two remaining dragons in the middle of a rainforest, it inhabited with brightly-colored animals and plants, most of which, according to Charlie, were poisonous.

When they had finished, Charlie flew back just outside of the Center of Directions, using a spell on Hermione and himself to dry them off and bring a small heat about their bodies. Hermione, however, had long forgotten about being cold for exhilaration was pumping through her veins after the rush of excitement.

"Charlie, that was amazing! All of the dragons and locations…it was all so striking!"

He smiled over at her, saying, "It's something you never quite get use to. But we always have to remain on high alert; the dragons know their own habitations better than we do, and they could attack us at every opportunity. By the way, which pen was your favorite?"

Hermione thought this over, her mind replaying each enclosure within her head.

"The last one we went to, the rainforest," she answered.

"Your favorite happens to be the most dangerous," Charlie informed, "not that there's anything wrong with that. That's Terrance's favorite too."

"What about you?"

"Mine is the valleys with all of the lakes, that was the fourth one we went to. I find it the most relaxing and the dragon there, the Welsh Green, is friendly. Sometimes I just go there and fly around, I forget about everything and just enjoy the tranquility of it all."

"That sounds nice," Hermione said.

"It's more than that but it something you have to experience to know it well. We could go one time if you'd like?"

Hermione smiled, responding, "Yeah, I think I'd like that."

* * *

Hours later, after the sun had set and the white moon had made its appearance, Hermione was curled against one side the couch in the living area of her and Charlie's home, reading Phillip's book, while Charlie was penning a letter to Bill.

Hermione found the scratching of Charlie's quill on parchment an easy sound to read to, as she looked over and saw Charlie's shoulders hunched over, his face deep in concentration in what he was writing down. She noted that he had a tendency to pout out his lower lip when he was stuck in terms of what to say next, as he delicately traced his bottom lip with his index finger before a stroke of inspiration would strike him which he would follow up by resuming his note again.

Charlie also cocked his head to one side after finishing a complete thought, as if he was mentally assessing what he had just written down, wondering if it was needed or not. He seemed to take particular care when it came to Bill, as he had told her before that they were really close growing up and still were; he was entertained by their relationship and Hermione was happy for it.

"Hermione, I know you're staring at me," Charlie stated without looking up from his parchment which he continued to scratch away at.

"I was actually looking at the fridge, wondering if I should have a slice of our dessert."

Charlie scoffed and said, "You're a terrible liar."

Hermione laughed as she closed Phillip's book and set it down before she walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and taking out the English Trifle she and Charlie had made the previous night.

She set it on the table and announced, "See, I wasn't lying."

Charlie stopped his writing and looked up at her, amusement playing over his face.

"I still know that's not what you were thinking of, but I'll let it slid this time."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she turned toward a cupboard and pulled down a small plate, before she turned, looked over her shoulder and asked, "Do you want a piece?"

"Yes, please," he replied, "I'm just finishing up."

As Hermione retrieved two plate and two forks, she remarked, "All of that is to Bill? Charlie you're writing an entire series of novels."

He shrugged, "You being here gives me a lot more to talk about."

Hermione looked over at him and inquired, "You wrote about me?"

"Well, yeah," he said back, rubbing the back of his head. "You don't mind, do you?"

"No, not at all," Hermione responded, "I'm just a little taken aback is all."

"Taken aback in a good way or a bad way?"

"Let's just say that I'm flattered," she proposed.

"I guess I can live with that," he nodded. "I'm going to send this off in the morning."

Charlie folded his letter up before Hermione handed him a slice of dessert while she took one for herself, as they both then retired over to the couch, Hermione picking up Phillip's book again to recommence her reading, only to find a small slip of parchment fall out from the latter pages down on the floor.

Hermione picked it up, thinking Phillip probably used this as a bookmark of sorts and forgot to take it out when he finished reading. However, when she looked at it, she stopped. Written down upon its surface in a hurried scrawl were the words, ' _Horntail...Ray...Wormey_.'

"Charlie, look at this," Hermione instructed, handing him over the piece of parchment.

He took it and read the three words soundlessly, his eyes stalling over each one.

"Where did you find this?"

"In Phillip's book; it slipped out a couple of seconds ago onto the floor. What do you think this means?"

"Well, 'Horntail' obviously refers to the Hungarian Horntail; 'Ray' most likely refers to Ray Warton, my and Terrance's friend that was killed when rescuing Phillip; 'Wormey'...why does that name sound familiar?"

"Wasn't Wormey the house-elf we met back at Garden Aplenty in Woan," Hermione questioned.

"That's right, Wormey, he gets paid with tweed hats," Charlie recovered. "He had thirty-seven of them, given each week he worked there."

"Why would Phillip write all of this down? This doesn't seem to make any sense," Hermione contemplated.

Before Charlie could respond, however, a patronus in the form of a jackal unexpectedly appeared. It opened its mouth as Terrance's voice rang out and said: "Come to the hatching tent...the Victorian Shalers are coming."


	20. The Victorian Shaler

Chapter 20: The Victorian Shaler

Excitement simmered within Hermione as she and Charlie quickly made their way from their home and to the hatching tent after receiving news from Terrance that the Victorian Shalers were finally coming to existence as dragons.

They ran across the purple cobblestone path, the noises of the black night and blinding glow of the moon about them, as Hermione heard a chorus of low voices emitting from the lit Quidditch pitch.

The couple raced into the clearing before entering into the hatching tent, where they made their way to its center, and found Director Mulligan, Terrance, Phillip, and Sprought crowded around the two stone pedestals hosting the pair of eggs, looking as if they were each covered in glittering jewels as well as bearing the purple and orange 'X' upon its surfaces.

"Ah, nice to have you join us Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger," Sprought called out, a wicked gleam set against his vile smile. Director Mulligan gave him a cold look, as Hermione noted that Sprought was dressed in black wizards' robes, with an intricate gold pattern laced down its back.

"How far along are they," Charlie questioned, looking over at Terrance, while he blatantly ignored Sprought's greeting, as the pair stood next to Phillip.

"The eggs have been tumbling around for a good hour or so," Terrance replied, while Phillip nodded his head in agreement, "so it should be within the next minute that these babies break free."

"You and Mr. Soren, I presume, are going to clean them," Mulligan asked, looking over at the pair.

"Sure thing director," Phillip replied ecstatically while Terrance merely nodded his head.

"Charlie," Hermione whispered, making him look over towards her, "what does Director Mulligan mean by cleaning?"

"When the dragons hatch, they're covered in slime and egg breakaways," he told her patiently, "and since these Victorian Shalers don't have their mothers with them, we have to clean them ourselves."

"You can't use a wand?"

"You can but it's risky; these are baby dragons, Hermione. They squirm around and do not intend to stay still for very long. If your aim is off by an inch, you could risk harming or even killing the dragon."

Hermione nodded her head in understanding as the yellow glow of the fairy lights protruding from the randomly-placed arborvitae trees pressed in around them.

"I must say Mulligan, that thus far, I'm not impressed with how you're running the reserve here in Wales," Sprought suddenly stated, Hermione finding it odd that he would bring up a subject matter that had almost nothing to do with why they were packed in the hatching tent so late at night.

"Do tell, Sprought, why you think so," Mulligan shot back with dark amusement, all hilarity void within his eyes.

"If you must know, I'm surprised we don't have a bigger gathering for the hatching of these two Victorian Shalers. Most of your workers seem to be…preoccupied with playing several rounds of Quidditch rather than be here to witness this," Sprought answered.

"My workers have seen the hatchings of many dragons over their tenure as handlers on a dragon reserve, all of them having observed such births back in Romania," Mulligan retorted. "Besides, it's not a requirement for them to be present for every dragon that hatches."

"You seemed misinformed Mulligan," Sprought tested. "This is a newly-discovered dragon species! This may be one of the last that's ever discovered yet your so-called 'dragon workers' rather toss around a ball in the air…how smashing."

Hermione sensed that Charlie tensed beside her while Mulligan held Sprought's steely gaze. Phillip had his mouth hanging open while Terrance's eyes flickered every other second back to Sprought.

"I would respond, Sprought, but then again, my words would only fall on deaf ears," Mulligan finally stated, he seeming to have mustered his remaining patience unto what he said.

"Hmm," Sprought mused, returning his eyes back on the eggs again, "you used to have a lot more nerve back when I first met you."

This however did not sit well with Mulligan who whipped out his wand with incredible speed which was only a mere blur in Hermione's eyes.

"Put that away you manky muppet," Sprought stressed, ignoring the now-standing Mulligan who had his wand tip pointed at his temple. "Or would you be so foolish as to attack the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic?"

Hermione saw that Charlie had since looked over at Mulligan, willing him to set his wand down and not to entertain Sprought's insults. Mulligan lowered his wand but maintained a tight grip upon it, his knuckles turning white.

An uncomfortable silence then settled down upon the occupants in the hatching tent after the brief exchange, while Mulligan seemed to be staring daggers at Sprought, who in turn was unperturbed by anything at all.

Hermione noticed that Terrance's eyes sauntered over to her, as she then remembered that he had been acting strange ever since that morning when she and Charlie had fed the dragons their breakfast. She wasn't sure what was going on with him but there was definitely something that was bothering him and Hermione found herself in the center of it.

Feeling his eyes on her, she looked over at him, and he held her gaze for a long moment, before he looked away.

Hermione didn't have long to dwell Terrance's odd behavior though for at that moment, both of the eggs on display started wobbling. Charlie, Hermione, and Phillip crowded around one egg while Terrance, Mulligan, and Sprought did the same to the other.

As the eggs continued to teeter about, Hermione thought she sensed movement within the shell, what looked like the wings of the beast. Suddenly, a small fire burst from the top of the casing as it was projected from a tiny hole near the top of the egg.

Hermione watched in fascination as the fire grew in size and crawled down all sides of the egg, eroding its shell in the process. As the casing continued to corrode, Hermione saw a tiny dragon in its center, slightly bigger than her forearm, its tiny body looking as if it housed a trove of sparkling diamonds that were almost hypnotic while its wings were the color of a translucent periwinkle blue that had a circular design pattern plastered across it. It was then that Hermione saw a marking upon its underbelly: the purple and orange 'X', the very same that was on its casing.

As soon as the shell completely disintegrated, the eyes of the baby Victorian Shaler popped open as it tried to stand on its own, its tailing swinging wildly around, making Charlie, Hermione, and Phillip take a step back. Hermione guessed that the other Victorian Shaler had the same reaction, as Terrance, Mulligan, and Sprought backed some steps away from it as well.

"Okay Mr. Wriley and Mr. Soren, your turn," Mulligan announced in a commanding tone.

The two addressees nodded their heads as they each collected a small bottle full of thick, oozing liquid and a washcloth from a nearby table.

Hermione watched Phillip as he expertly poured the liquid onto the washcloth and cleaned the dragon, which wasn't a simple task as the Victorian Shaler kept snapping at his fingers along with releasing small clouds of fire. For his part, Phillip kept to his job at hand, washing down the dragon of its slime the inside of egg shell had produced.

"Good work Mr. Wriley and Mr. Soren," Mulligan assessed, nodding his head in approval at his workers' impeccable handled care of the newest members to the Wales Dragon Reserve.

"This thing's a beauty, ain't it," Phillip then exclaimed in wonderment, now taking in the appearance of the Victorian Shalers.

"You're right about that, Mr. Soren," Mulligan agreed, "but you should see them as adults. That's a true sight to behold."

Hermione looked at Charlie beside her as they smiled at one another at finally seeing the Victorian Shaler with their own pairs of eyes, at long last putting to rest the disquiet nature of the legitimacy of whether this particular specie of dragon actually existed. He rested an arm over her shoulders as she swung her own around his waist, the pair resting against each other.

Hermione's eyes then fell on Sprought whose gaze was transfixed on the beasts before him. The several moments she watched him, not once did he blink but rather, his mouth had curled into a grin, one that hinted of malice and wickedness. She was rather disturbed by how he looked in those minutes; it was as if a winter thunder clashed against a summer rain, revealing the foes that dwelled in the shadows, waiting for their turn to move in for the kill.

The spectators continued to marvel at the Victorian Shalers, watching them stumble about atop of their respective stone daises. It was then that Hermione noted that Mulligan was looking over at Sprought out of the corner of his eyes, his wand still clutched within his hand; perhaps he noticed what she had.

Some time later, Mulligan and Sprought had retired from the hatching tent (albeit at separate times), leaving Charlie, Hermione, Phillip, and Terrance to look after the newly-born dragons.

While the latter two cradled the baby beasts within their arms, Terrance actually cooing at it with a bright smile, Hermione heard a faint rattling noise from somewhere behind her.

She turned her head towards where the sound was coming from.

"Hermione, what is it," Charlie asked.

She didn't answer right away for she heard the jingling noise again.

"Do you hear that?"

Charlie paused against the silence before his brows pulled together as he questioned, "Hear what?"

"I heard this clattering sound nearby," she stated slowly, before she walked away and out of the cubicle hosting the Victorian Shalers with Charlie hot on her heels.

"A clattering sound," Charlie voiced as a question. "I didn't hear anything."

"It was faint," Hermione resumed shortly, having since stopped walking to see if she could hear it again. Coming from a compartment ahead of her, it sounded off once more, though this time, Charlie seemed to have heard it as well.

"That sounds like another dragon egg hatching," he noted in a surprised tone, as the two looked at each other before they hurried towards the source.

Entering into the partition hosting the Antipodean Opaleye, they both saw its egg shaking precariously as Charlie surmised, "It looks like this guy is ready to hatch as well."

"You already know the gender of the dragon," Hermione asked, looking sideways at him, observing his use of the term 'guy'.

"Just a hunch," he replied back, before they rushed forward towards the wobbling egg.

As they peered closer at it, Hermione once again sensed movement within the casing, before a crack splintered down from the top of the egg to its side. Suddenly, with tremendous effort from the baby dragon inside, the shell burst apart, sending tiny fragments flying into the air and back at Charlie and Hermione, who shielded their faces from the debris with their arms.

As the tiny Antipodean Opaleye started to struggle to stand with its own power, Charlie remarked while looking over at her, "Hermione, we have to clean him."

He turned around and retrieved the small bottle of liquid paired with a washcloth.

"You want to do it," he inquired, holding the items out to her.

"I'm not trained," she purported, shaking her head back and forth.

"You don't have to be," he discredited, "but I'll help. Come here."

Hermione stepped closer to Charlie as he smothered the washcloth with the thick liquid before he handed it to Hermione.

"All you have to do is rub the dragon with this," he instructed, pointing a finger down to the washcloth, "clearing away bits of egg shell that might be stuck to him and the slime he's covered in."

Hermione nodded her head once in understanding as she looked down at the tiny dragon, it peering around its new environment it was birthed into with wonder and excitement. It looked so fragile and so lost, that Hermione couldn't help feel for it. It had pearly scales along with multi-colored eyes that glittered in the fairy lights.

As tenderly as she could, Hermione started to clean the dragon of its remaining casing that was nearly glued to its wings and tail, while also getting rid of the grey glop that had gathered on its neck and underbelly.

The Antipodean Opaleye seemed to revel under Hermione's touch, unlike the Victorian Shalers which tried to snap away at Phillip and Terrance as they tried to clean them, along with letting loose the occasional small ball of flame.

Hermione smiled down at the dragon after she finished cleaning it off, as it leaned its small head against the palm of her hand, nuzzling against its surface and nipping her fingers affectionately.

"Hermione, I'd say you're quite the pro at cleaning off dragons for a first-timer," Charlie commented happily next to her. "This guy's taking a strong liking to you. I have to admit, I'm kind of jealous."

"You better watch out, Charlie, or he might take your place."

Charlie snorted good-naturedly while Hermione asked, "So what happens now?"

"The babies have to stay in cages for three days until we can bring them out to train," he answered.

"Won't the dragons feel trapped if we put them in cages?"

"No. After they're born, they can barely stand on their own and are unable to spread their wings. After the third day though, they're much more adept and accustomed to their bodies."

Hermione looked back down at the Antipodean Opaleye as she continued to rub her fingers over its smooth scales, it being cool under her touch. The dragon released a high-pitched yet rather quiet _roar_ as it tried to climb up her arm.

"He'll probably let you train him," Charlie commented after a moment, gently pushing the beast off of Hermione before crossing his arms over his chest.

"Do you think Director Mulligan will let me?"

Charlie laughed softly, shaking his head from side to side.

"No, I meant the Antipodean Opaleye," Charlie referred. "Baby dragons are very particular in who they attach onto since their mothers aren't around. Typically, they choose those who they sense are the most protective and who they're most comfortable with. With this guy," Charlie continued, nodding his head towards it, "he seems fond of you."

Hermione smiled at his words, never taking her eyes off of the dragon in front of her. For a second, she stopped rubbing its scales, yet the Antipodean Opaleye nudged her hand with its head several times, willing for her to maintain her rubbing session, as he seemed enamored with it.

"Do we give it a name," Hermione questioned, looking at Charlie, as he started to gently pet the dragon before him while it closed its eyes in peacefulness.

"We can, but usually we like to wait until after we get to know the personality of the dragon a bit better. Why? Did you have anything in mind?"

Hermione shook her head, "No, not at that moment; I was just curious."

Just then, Terrance's voice asked from behind them, "Another one hatched?!"

Charlie and Hermione, both startled by his sudden interruption, turned at the same time to face him, as Charlie supplied, "Yeah, just a couple of minutes ago actually."

"Three babies in one night," Terrance exclaimed in wild wonder, "I don't think that's ever happened before!"

Hermione looked over at Terrance, who was still cradling one of the Victorian Shalers in his bulky arms (the baby dragon having since started chewing away on one of the sleeves of his black t-shirt), as a look of fondness entered his irises at the sight of the newly-born Antipodean Opaleye.

"Incredible, these things are," he then stated. "Anyway, you two don't have to stay if you don't want to. I got everything under control here."

As Terrance turned to walk away, Charlie questioned, "You…what about Phillip?"

At Charlie's query, Terrance stopped walking. Without turning his head, he answered softly, "Him too."

He then exited the cubicle making Charlie sigh and shake his head.

"Well, I don't think Terrance and Phillip have made amends yet," he concluded.

Hermione set her hand on Charlie's arm and said, "Just give it some time; maybe they'll both surprise us."

Charlie leaned down and planted a kiss on Hermione's forehead.

"I hope so. Do you want to turn in for the night?"

Hermione looked back at the Antipodean Opaleye, who had since fallen asleep, it curled into a tiny ball, its small tail swaying back and forth, as if it was reacting to a dream that had entered into its head.

"Yeah, let's go," she then answered.

Charlie waved his wand, making a comfortable-looking small cage appear, as he gently picked up the dragon with his hands, making it stir but not wake, and set it inside, closing and locking its door.

"Where do we leave the cage?"

"Right where the egg was placed," Charlie responded, setting it atop of the stone pedestal.

"It won't fall, will it," Hermione asked, a small bout of fear as images of the cage wobbling over and crashing onto the hard ground, injuring the dragon inside it, lurked into her head.

At this, Charlie turned towards Hermione and remarked in a mockingly surprised tone, "Well…it looks to me as if Miss Granger has gone a bit soft, hasn't she?"

"Oh don't be ridiculous, of course I am," she compensated snappishly making Charlie laugh, "I like this one a lot," she then returned softly, bending down and looking at the sleeping dragon once more.

"Come on, let's go," Charlie said, taking hold of her hand, "the cage will be safe there, so you don't have to worry about it. He'll be here tomorrow."

The couple then departed from the hatching tent, hand-in-hand.

Making their way down the purple pathway, the black night pressing in all around them with only the heavy flush of the moon and the twinkling stars to light their way, Hermione inquired, "Charlie, the way the Victorian Shalers were born wasn't normal, was it?"

He looked over at her, one brow quirked upwards, playing back, "Normal in what way?"

"With the Antipodean Opaleye, the egg shell cracked open. But with the Victorian Shalers, the small fire burned the casings away."

"Yeah, that was a bit odd," Charlie mused, looking straight ahead of him once more. "I can't think of any dragon hatching that's like that one."

"Isn't it a bit strange though? I mean, shouldn't all dragon births be similar to one another?"

"You read about it," Charlie questioned, looking back at her again.

She nodded her head, "In Phillip's book. Of course, since the Victorian Shaler was just discovered, the authors don't talk about it in particular, but they did say that dragon eggs crack open once the dragon is ready. There's no mention of a small fire burning it away."

"I see what you're saying: since the Victorian Shaler is a dragon, then its hatching process should be comparable to its own kind," Charlie wrapped up.

"Exactly," Hermione said softly.

"Well, there's always a disclaimer, an exception to any given 'rule,' for lack of a better term. The Victorian Shaler could be it," he replied.

"It's possible," Hermione enacted, though she didn't truly believe that was the case. Of course, the Victorian Shaler was a true sight of beauty, even in its early stages of development, but circumstances surrounding its discovery bothered her, like how it was found in such a remote location on the other side of the world (where dragons were seemingly uncommon to stumble upon), its overdue initial sighting, and its unique hatching sequence.

Harry and Ron did warn her about the whisperings swirling about the Auror department, its gossip like thick smoke, yet maybe there was some credibility with their words. Obviously, the Victorian Shaler was very real and very much alive, yet, like Charlie said, there's always a disclaimer…an exception. Also, for a truth to be told, Hermione didn't like the purple and orange 'X' that appeared on its underbelly – a mark she could not remember seeing in her notes she and Charlie plowed through before making their way to Wales. To her, the 'X' signified a dangerous omen, one in which its predictability was impossible to forecast.

"What're you thinking about, Hermione," Charlie inquired softly over to her.

"Too many things," she replied evenly.

"The Shaler is still plaguing your mind?"

"That and everything surrounding in finding it. It all just seems…off in a way. Then of course, there was the parchment we found in Phillip's book that makes his whole situation confusing too."

"We could ask him about it. I mean, those three names are not just something he would randomly write down," Charlie proposed. "But they also don't seem to form any cohesive meaning either."

"Do you think it would be…right, to go and ask Phillip about it? I don't want to pry into his personal life," Hermione responded.

Charlie shrugged his shoulders, saying, "If we never try, then we're never going to know. But at least two of those names, the Horntails and Ray, have as much to do with everyone on the reserve as it does to him; Wormey…probably not as much."

Hermione thought this over as she redirected her gaze away from Charlie to nothing in particular. She noticed that the chorale of voices she had heard before coming from the Quidditch pitch had since gone, plunging the reserve into a calm quiet, with only the animals hiding amongst the trees providing any sense that they were not alone. The moon and the stars still shone above them, seeming to become ever brighter given the fact that three new births took place that night on the encampment, while a small wind blew over the couple, billowing Charlie's white t-shirt against his hard body, while making Hermione's wild hair flow about her.

Hermione had too many thoughts on her mind, playing her back to the days when she and Ron were helping Harry on his quest to defeat Voldemort once and for all. Yet this time, though, many of her thoughts were mere questions, shrouded in a mask to darkness. There really was no one person she could go to with her ideas because they too were under a body of black water, unable to be seen or more importantly, retrieved.

She didn't even know if going to Phillip and asking him about the names he wrote down on a random piece of parchment was going to help. She and Charlie might walk away with more questions than answers after speaking with him. And on top of that, Hermione was trying to fend of Terrance's gazes he kept giving her when no one else was looking. His looks originated from nowhere and Hermione was becoming more and more uncomfortable with it. She considered telling Charlie about it but then thought better of it: perhaps his stares didn't mean anything at all and she was reading too much into it. There was a possibility that they were merely friendly nuances and nothing else.

Charlie and Hermione soon found themselves walking upon the red pathway that snaked its way between the homes on the reserve. They passed by a house that had loud laughter springing out of it, the curtains of its front windows open, letting yellow-squares dot its front lawn, while another home was playing the Wizarding Wireless Network.

"Everything will be alright, Hermione, trust me," Charlie suddenly stated, leading her up to their front door.

She gave him a small smile, saying, "I hope so."

"I won't let anything happen to you, you know that right?"

"I know," she nodded. "I just want to go to sleep and think about everything tomorrow."

"Sounds like a plan," Charlie agreed, opening their front door.

Several minutes later, Hermione found herself being kissed by Charlie a goodnight at her bedroom's threshold, his lips molding over hers though in a more reticent fashion. After they broke apart, he leaned back with a smile.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that," he mused gently.

"Good night, Charlie," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes in the process.

She then closed her door with a curt nod of his head. Although she was tired, Hermione did not go to bed straight away, but instead walked over to her desk, took out a piece of parchment, a quill, and ink and started writing away all of thoughts she had twisting together in her head. She figured that if she wanted a restful night's sleep, getting all of her ideas out of her would be a good first step.

Hermione wrote short, simple notes, like, 'Phillip parchment,' 'Victorian Shaler – discovery, first sighting, hatching,' 'House in the woods,' 'Terrance,' and 'Sprought.'

With her final notion, Sprought, Hermione thought that Charlie was correct when he said that Sprought came to the reserve for matters that did not pertain directly to his job title. Hermione still didn't like him, not in the slightest, and it seemed as if Charlie and Mulligan ate of the same fruit as she.

Hermione stared down at what she jotted down, seeing if there was a link she could make but nothing popped out at her; it appeared to be chances inscribed on parchment with no rhyme or rhythm set to it. She gave a deep sigh, setting down her quill and rubbing her eyes red.

Deciding that tomorrow was another day, one in which she may have some of her questions answered by way of Phillip, Hermione made her way into her bathroom, brushing her teeth, washing her face, and running a comb through her mildly wind-swept hair, her face masked in brief pain when she came upon an unruly knot.

Lost within her own thoughts, Hermione stared at herself in her bathroom mirror, thinking of Terrance doing the same, much like he had done on two separate occasions now over the course of one day. She thought back to when she first met him in Romania, racking her memory to see if Terrance ever looked at her as he had earlier. Nothing specific lunged out at her, though there was that time when she and Charlie visited him in St. Mungo's after the attack in Woan, when Terrance complimented her dueling skills, making Charlie step closer to her in a defensive manner; that was right before they learned of the Romanian Longhorn escape. Suddenly, Hermione mentally gasped. A memory of Terrance just floated back into her, another possible piece of this colossal puzzle she was trying to solve.

Throwing down her comb upon the counter and rushing back towards her desk, she took her quill in her hand and recorded next to Terrance's name, 'St. Mungo's parchment.'

Right before Director Mulligan, Charlie, and Hermione took a portkey back to Romania to bring back the Romanian Longhorn from the Castle of Stone, Hermione saw a small piece of parchment lying beside the bed Terrance was residing in. Of course, she had no evidence that it was his, but Hermione had never once seen random slips of parchment lying in any of the wards of St. Mungo's of all the times she has been there in the past. For all Hermione knew, the piece of parchment could've contained Healer Millie's work hours she documented for Terrance, or it could be of something else entirely.

Yawning behind her hand, Hermione set down her quill again before she climbed into bed, too tired to be excited for sleep to come. Within a matter of several moments, as Charlie's soft snores rolled into her hearing passages, she was gone.

* * *

The following morning, Hermione awoke to yet another pecking ordeal. Waving her wand in a sleepy manner, her teal curtains parted down the middle and the window of her room opened, as she eyed a Ministry-groomed owl fly inside. The brown bird circled around her bed before it deposited a roll of The Daily Prophet atop of her sheets, Hermione having a paid subscription to it, before the owl took flight and left.

Hermione reached out and unfurled the paper, her eyes bulging at its headlines.

' _Auror Pleads Guilty in Murder of Romanian Socialite_ ,' screamed at her, making Hermione sit upright while she scanned the article after she took a quick look at a picture that was captured of the said auror in the dungeons of the Ministry of Magic being questioned.

When she had finished, she threw her comforter off of her and hurried out of her room and made her way across the hall. She set her ear to Charlie's door, trying to determine if he was awake or still asleep. Hearing him mumble incoherently in his slumber, Hermione didn't have the patience to wait until Charlie came to.

Knocking softly on his door, she turned the knob and opened it a crack, hoping she didn't wander in on anything indecent. She saw Charlie in his bed, his head resting on two stacked pillows.

"Charlie," Hermione whispered, trying to draw him awake; however, he didn't react.

"Charlie," Hermione said a bit more loudly this time, taking one step into his room.

Though he didn't wake, Charlie stirred a bit, rolling onto his side with his back facing her, making his bed sheets slip off of him. She audibly gasped when his exposed buttocks flashed her. Connecting the dots after seeing his gray boxer shorts lying abandoned on the floor of his room, Hermione shut the door with a bit of a slam, feeling as if she had invaded Charlie's personal privacy.

She heard him wake at that, while Hermione crept away from his door, one tiptoe at a time. Playing it off as if she had just woken herself, Hermione gave a louder-than-usual yawn in the hallway, making sure Charlie would hear it, before he went over and knocked on his door again.

"Uh…jus'a min," Charlie slurred out, his voice thick with tiredness.

He opened his door several inches, as Hermione's eyes, own their own accord, drifted downwards to see that Charlie just pulled on his gray boxer shorts before answering.

"'Morning, Hermione," Charlie greeted, rubbing one of his eyes with the palm of his hand, "I didn't expect you to be up before me."

She made her irises look into his face as she took in a breath and held up The Daily Prophet for him to see.

Charlie squinted at the front page, before he fully opened his room door, softly taking the paper out of Hermione's grasp. He retreated back into his room, reading the article that accompanied the morning's headline, scratching the side of his head as he did so and gently tugging down on his left earlobe.

As he continued to examine the story, Hermione saw that Charlie's short red hair was bed-ridden while she saw a large number of freckles dot his wide shoulders and bulging biceps. Her eyes then meandered back down and saw that his bum was round and firm, protruding against the back of his boxer shorts. When he turned around to face her, Hermione saw that his stomach was flat, giving way to chiseled abdominal muscles and sculpted pectorals.

"I'll just let you get changed," Hermione murmured quietly, feeling her face get incredibly hot as she shut his bedroom door for him without waiting for any response, and then scurrying into her own bathroom, locking it shut.

She splashed cold water on her face several times, basking in its cleanliness. Yet, Charlie's body image kept creeping its way into her vision, making Hermione's eyes nearly drool in tears as how perfect he looked.

Whilst Hermione was never one to appeal in judging others by sight, there was no fault in her appreciating those who looked good. Charlie was remarkably fit, even more so than she initially knew of; no doubt dragon handling played a large part in his robust form. His body looked like it was molded by a skilled workmanship's hands, done to near, if not, total perfection. She was awed by his body, never once seeing anything like it. Yet, this made Hermione then become aware of her own figure.

She looked at herself in her mirror, turning to her right and then to her left, frowning at her reflection. While she didn't know what the female prototype body shape was, Hermione was sure she didn't embody it.

Shaking her head of these thoughts, Hermione remembered the Prophet's top headline, rendering negative thoughts of her body image insignificant for the time being.

Hermione unlocked her bathroom and exited her bedroom, walking down the hall and towards the kitchen, seeing Charlie sitting at the table, fully dressed, sipping a steaming mug of tea, with another cup resting across from him.

"Good morning, Charlie," Hermione said in a confident manner, thinking that it was better to ignore the images of Charlie she had seen earlier, placing them in the back of her mind until a more opportune time befell her.

"Hey," he greeted with a smile as she sat down across from him. "Sorry about that this morning; I had a bit of a late start."

Hermione nodded wordlessly while taking a sip of her tea, hoping Charlie didn't want to dwell on the daybreak's reflections.

Charlie continued to look over at her, seeming as if he was waiting for a response from her.

"Thanks for the tea," Hermione quipped.

Charlie chuckled, relaying, "Hermione, you're not embarrassed by what happened this morning, are you? I mean, it's alright."

She sighed, "I feel like I invaded your privacy."

"You didn't," he replied at once, though gently. "Nothing inappropriate happened."

"Nothing inappropriate happened but I saw something inappropriate," Hermione returned softly.

Charlie's brows pulled together as he tilted his head to one side.

"You're not going to make me say it, are you," she asked.

Charlie's eyes skirted to his left and right before returning to her, responding with, "Well if I'm to be honest with you, I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

Hermione sighed again, barely refraining from rolling her eyes.

"I saw…I saw your…," she started though she was having trouble finishing her statement.

"You saw my what?"

"I saw your bum," she breathed out, looking down into her tea mug, unable to meet Charlie's eyes.

A heavy silence filled the kitchen before Hermione heard Charlie snicker softly. Looking up at him in a puzzled manner, she saw that he was trying very hard not to burst out laughing behind a closed fist.

Not understanding the joviality of the invading one's confidentiality, she posed, "What?"

"Hermione, I don't have a problem with you seeing my bum. And I don't think of it as an invasion of privacy either. What do you find so offensive about that?"

"Oh honestly it's your body," she stated.

"And?"

"And," she repeated incredulously. "Well…it's wrong."

"Wrong in what way?"

Hermione looked at Charlie as if he had grown a second head.

"I wasn't supposed to see it."

"Why not?"

Hermione huffed, growing agitated at Charlie's antics.

"Why are you being so difficult?"

"I don't think I'm difficult, I just don't see what the problem is."

"The problem…the problem is…," Hermione sputtered with no results before Charlie cut in.

"Hermione, two things: one, you and I are adults, fully-grown and mature adults," he said, holding up one finger, "and two, we're dating," he added, holding up a second. "I mean, even if we weren't dating, I still wouldn't have a problem with you seeing my bum. It's not a crime."

"But don't you feel…violated," she questioned.

"No, not at all! In fact, I've wanted to show you for some time now," he teased.

Hermione felt the corners of her mouth quirk upward with Charlie's sentiments.

He shrugged his shoulders, "It's not like you saw my front, right? That, to me, is a bit more hush-hush…for now. Some guys have it on display for the world to see but I'm more protective of it, in a way."

"We're not having a conversation about this so early in the morning right now, are we," Hermione asked.

"If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop," Charlie directed, making Hermione nod her head in agreement as she took another sip of tea. "By the way, I meant to ask you, did you want sausage for breakfast?"

Hermione started choking on his innuendo, making him rush over and soothingly pat her back. She turned to look at him, saying, "Honestly, was that necessary?"

He didn't answer; instead, he shot her his boyish smile and planted a soft kiss on her lips.

"That was."

As he went back to his seat, she shook her head from side to side in amusement before her eyes found the Prophet once again. Sliding it towards her, she inquired in a now-serious manner, "What do you think of this?"

Growing solemn himself, Charlie voiced, "The auror admitted it. His own defense was that the Romanian Socialite was an undercover dragon poacher, which technically is the truth, and killed him for it."

"But murder by an auror," Hermione challenged. "I know that many people were critical of aurors during the war because of their use of stunning spells at Death Eaters who used the killing curse on a regular basis, but as far as we know, this Romanian Socialite, Octavian Rual, and the auror that murdered him had no history with each other. It seems like the Ministry took his testimony at face value and didn't bother to ask him why he thought killing was the necessary outcome of an undercover dragon poacher."

Charlie frowned as he grabbed the Prophet in his hands and looked at the front page again, his face hiding behind it.

As Hermione took another sip of her tea, Charlie's voice suddenly came from the other side of the paper, "Hermione?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you get a good look at the picture that accompanied the article," he asked.

"Not really; I just took a quick look at it. Why?"

Without answering, Charlie laid the paper down and beckoned for Hermione to take a closer look at it.

"This picture tells us some things. Look who's questioning the auror," he probed.

Hermione leaned down, studying the moving photograph and saw to her unease that Sprought was leading the hearing.

"Sprought," she commented softly, looking over at Charlie who held her gaze.

"There's something not right with him," Charlie remarked. After pausing for a beat, he continued, "I mean, we both know he's a bloody wanker but did you see how he looked at the Victorian Shalers last night after they were born? He didn't blink for several minutes."

"He also smiled," Hermione tacked on, "but I don't think it was one of amusement."

"He has a part Hermione in some of the things that have been going on. I don't know how big, but there's no doubt he knows more than what he lets on," Charlie concluded.

"What do we do?"

"What can we do," Charlie retorted with a shrug of his shoulders. "He's a high-ranking Ministry official. We could contact Kingsley though."

"We could," Hermione agreed, "but what do we say to the Ministry of Magic – that we have a hunch that Sprought may be evil and knows about situations we can barely understand ourselves? That's almost nothing to go on."

Charlie was silent for a moment as he digested Hermione's words.

With a sigh, he said in a quiet voice, "I was kind of hoping everything would have settled down by now, with the mystery of the house in the woods and the dragon poachers back in Woan. It seems like as we go along, people and things keep getting thrown into the mix, making this whole situation more confusing."

Hermione reached across the table and grabbed one of Charlie's hands, paired together with a comforting smile.

"We'll figure this out, Charlie, and everything will be alright."

He nodded in answer, providing her a reassuring grin of his own.

Some minutes later, after Hermione got dressed for the day's activities, she went back over to her desk and took hold of the parchment she had taken notes on the previous night. With her quill in her hand, Hermione added the phrase 'Auror hearing,' which had a line connecting it to 'Sprought.'

She then gave her annotations a once-over, as it reminded her of what she wanted to do after work.

* * *

As the sun began to set, slowly sinking over the tips of the trees that surrounded the low-lying valley of the reserve workers' homes plus its amenities, casting the sky in a dazzling gold-red display, Charlie and Hermione knocked on the front door of Phillip, both of them wanting to question him about the parchment Hermione had found in his book.

"Char, 'Mione," Phillip greeted in an excited manner, a wide smile coating his face, "whad'dya doing here?"

"Hi Phillip," Hermione started, "Charlie and I wanted to ask you about something. Do you mind if we come in?"

"No, no, not at all," he responded beaming, opening the front door of his home wider to let them inside.

As Hermione stepped in, she looked around and saw that the layout of his home was exactly the same as the one she shared with Charlie, except Phillip's living area was decorated with a desk, two small dark green couches, one brown armchair, and a small bronze coffee table.

"Take a seat, take a seat," he said, gesturing for them to occupy one sofa, "do ya want anything to drink?"

"No," Charlie and Hermione replied in unison, "we're both fine," Charlie finished for them.

"Okay," Phillip said, turning the lone armchair in the room to face Charlie and Hermione.

"What can I do ya for?"

Hermione looked over at Charlie as he gave her a curt, reassuring nod. Taking a deep breath, she reached into the pocket of her jeans, and pulled out the piece of parchment.

"Phillip, I was reading the book you lent me a couple of days ago-," she started, but Phillip cut her off.

"And how do ya like it? It's fascinating, ain't it?"

"Oh, um, yes, I like it quite a bit," Hermione answered, giving him a small smile. "But, I don't mean to talk about the book specifically. This fell out of it," Hermione then said, handing the slip of parchment over to him.

He gave her a confused look before he unfurled it and stared down at it.

Hermione studied him for a beat, seeing his brows shoot up then pull back down, before his right brow quirked upwards.

"Phillip," Charlie stated softly, puncturing the silence that had engulfed the trio, "do you remember what happened?"

He looked up at the second-oldest Weasley, questioning, "When what happened?"

"You wrote down 'Ray' on your parchment; it's obvious you're referring to Ray Worton, unless there's another Ray you know."

Phillip remained silent for a full minute, making Charlie and Hermione wait for his answer.

"Bits and pieces come back," he finally responded, "here and there, at odd times, if I do say so myself. Most of time, they come back when I'm workin' with the dragons. They're not full memories or anything of tha' sort, but glimpses."

"But how did you remember Ray's name," Charlie posed.

He shrugged his shoulders, rubbing the back of his head, "I guess I never really forgot it."

"Do you remember what happened…back with the Horntails?"

He shook his head from side to side, relaying, "No, I don'. But I see them in my dreams."

"You see them in your dreams," Hermione repeated, making sure she heard him correctly.

"All the time," he let out. "I know about the incident involving the Horntails and Ray – Director Mulligan told me, but I don't remember any specifics."

"And how about Wormey," Hermione directed, remembering the little house-elf who worked in Garden Aplenty.

"I met him one night back in Woan," Phillip explained, looking down at the parchment he was holding his hands. "Told me that he was from Wales."

"That's right, I forgot about that," Charlie commented softly.

"Did you talk with him," Hermione furthered.

"A bit...he was telling me of the family he worked for; he didn' like 'em much at all by what he said."

"Do you know why you wrote his name down," Hermione inquired.

Phillip shook his head, "No, I don' really know why I wrote any of these things down. I was probably thinkin' of something and these names just popped up all of a sudden."

Charlie and Hermione shared a look with each other, before Phillip cut in, "Can I ask ya two a question?"

"Sure, Phillip," Charlie said.

"What do ya two think of Sprought?"

Charlie scoffed while Hermione answered, "Well, we can't say that we think highly of him. We first met him when he questioned us while you were still in St. Mungo's, and he seemed vile and cruel."

"I remember something 'bout him," Phillip then said.

"What do you remember," Charlie asked.

Phillip looked up at the pair and told them, "Wormey knows him."


	21. The Bastion Conquered

Chapter 21: The Bastion Conquered

Tufts of small, white puffy clouds floated under a clear blue sky, they generally obscuring the burning sun. A light, heated wind also stirred occasionally, though there was no coolness that it brought with it. Hermione, though, paid little attention to the surrounding weather temperatures for excitement had taken hold of her hours after she and Charlie had done their morning rounds of feeding the dragons their breakfasts'.

She found herself in between the full-grown dragon enclosures (it looking like a large circle which each dragon pen resembling that of a slice of pie) and the tree line leading back towards the Center of Directions and the hatching tent, as she was training the Antipodean Opaleye, with Charlie acting as her coach.

While there was no individual corral for the Antipodean Opaleye to be guided in, Charlie had placed enchantments over the small area where they were located, just in the off-chance the Antipodean Opaleye tried to scurry off or take flight.

"Let's try to get this little guy to fly," Charlie stated, looking over at Hermione as they were standing several yards apart, while the Antipodean Opaleye had wrapped itself in between Hermione's legs, rubbing its body against her skin. "I want you to levitate its food and see how he goes about getting it."

Hermione nodded in understanding while she inwardly smiled, seeing as how serious Charlie took his job in training the newborns. According to Director Mulligan, Charlie was an expert, with Terrance running at a close second, in preparing the baby dragons towards the eventuality of living in their own pens when they grew bigger.

Hermione directed her gaze to a mokeskin pouch some feet away from her, Charlie having put an odor charm upon it some minutes before as the Antipodean Opaleye kept creeping closer to it to start feasting away for itself.

Waving her wand, the pouch opened and out flew a small piece of red meat. At once, the baby dragon's attention turned at it, its eyes nearly salivating at it hovering in mid-air. Hermione moved the mutton nearby a rather large rock that was at the center of their makeshift training area.

"Great," Charlie exclaimed, his arms folded over his wide chest. "Now the point is to have him attempt to fly so try and place the meat in the air where he won't be able to get it from just standing on the rock there."

Hermione did as she was told before she looked over at Charlie, who nodded once. Taking this as her cue, Hermione looked down at the baby dragon swathed around her ankles, and whispered, "Go get it!"

The Antipodean Opaleye let out a high-pitched _roar_ before it easily unwound itself from Hermione and charged towards the rock. The beast jumped easily upon it before it took a leap off of the stone's peak, taking a mighty spring towards the meat that was hanging mere inches away.

However, before the jaws of the dragon could grab hold of it, gravity set in, pulling the beast back towards the ground where it landed with a soft _thump_. Hermione started to rush over towards it, making sure it was uninjured, yet before she could so, the dragon righted itself straightaway and craned its neck, looking up at its food, the Antipodean Opaleye seeming to wonder how it was going to reach it.

Hermione looked over at Charlie who grinned at her in return, saying, "Well, I'd say it was a pretty good first effort."

They walked towards each other, the dragon paying them no attention, as Hermione questioned, "Charlie, how do we get it to spread its wings?"

He shrugged his shoulders and responded simply, "That's something that it has to learn on its own. In the wild, no one tells the dragons to spread its wings and fly…it happens naturally. The other handlers each have their own methods in coaching the newborns but I've found that having their food hanging in the air is a good way to go about it. All it takes is patience."

"What do some of the other workers do," Hermione asked, taking a quick look over at the Antipodean Opaleye, who had not moved from its position from looking up at its prize.

"They throw stinging hexes at them," Charlie answered, shaking his head in bafflement as Hermione gasped. "Why anyone would think that that would make a dragon fly is just so perplexing. More often than not, the baby dragons instead charge at their trainers, shooting them with fire – it's pretty comedic to watch actually."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione laughed softly, "I can't imagine why."

After a brief, peaceful moment, Charlie then said, "So shall we go for a second attempt?"

Hermione looked back at the dragon and inquired, "How are we going to get it to try again? It seems transfixed on the meat."

Charlie looked over at it for a beat and then looked back at Hermione, instructing gently, "Call it; it seems to listen to you."

"Call it," she repeated in a question-like format with an ounce of disbelief souring her ease.

Charlie nodded his head wordlessly.

Not entirely sure if this would work, Hermione turned towards the dragon and called out with an encouraging tone and waving her hand, "Come back, Antipodean Opaleye, come back here!"

The beast turned its head towards her for a quick second. Looking back at the juicy meat one final time, the dragon then prodded its way over the soft grass towards Hermione, where it once again resumed its position of folding itself against her legs, making Charlie grin at the sight.

"You find something amusing, Charles," Hermione asked, noticing his mirth.

He looked up at her, his bright-blue eyes breathing fire, answering, "I was just reminded of something."

Hermione quirked up a brow, and queried, "Care to elaborate?"

"No."

Hermione huffed in good spirits before she looked back down at the dragon and said lightly again, "Go get your food!"

Once again, the Antipodean Opaleye unwound itself from her legs and charged at the rock, the piece of meat never leaving its line of sight. Hopping onto the miniature boulder, the beast bounded towards the stone's crest. When it reached that point, it jumped, though it again fell short of its goal, as it fell back towards the earth.

Growling in frustration, the dragon righted itself and stared up at its seeming unreachable target. He shot a line of fire towards the meat out of aggravation though the flame was unable to singe it.

"Oh Charlie, can't we just give him a small piece? I feel like we're torturing him," Hermione nearly pleaded, not taking her eyes off of the small Antipodean Opaleye, which had since started snapping its jaws in the air, barring its sharp teeth at its food.

"We can't, Hermione," Charlie insisted, shaking his head from side to side. "We can't baby him even though he technically is one. He has to learn these things himself."

While she heard Charlie's words, Hermione continued to study the dragon, looking at it with precision. She had an idea that perhaps the Antipodean Opaleye didn't know about its wings and its ability to fly. Although she had no expertise on the grounds of dragons and their bodies, maybe it was possible to point out its wings.

"Charlie," Hermione said, making him look at her, "do you think I could try something?"

"What d'you have in mind?"

"Well, I want to try and make the dragon notice its wings," she stated simply. "If we could draw attention to it, it's possible that the Antipodean Opaleye could use them. Do you think that could work?"

"It might," Charlie responded, seesawing his head from one side to the other as he digested her idea. "Of course, your method has never been tested before, not to my knowledge at least, but I'm all for giving it a go."

Hermione nodded her head, determination coursing through her veins. She walked over and sat down on the rock before she called over the dragon. Setting its sights on her, the Antipodean Opaleye raced over, as it made an almighty hurdle into her lap. She gasped in surprise when she realized that the dragon, while still a baby, weighed quite a bit more than what she expected of it.

"Do you want me to hold it," Charlie asked, taking a seat next to her, letting their shoulders and arms brush one another's. "The newborns can be heavy."

"No, no, I'm fine," Hermione relayed, "I just didn't expect it."

"You sure?"

"I'm positive," she responded, sending him a small smile.

"Okay, dragon tamer, so what's the plan," he then posed, licking his lips in reeling anticipation to see what Hermione had churning on in her head.

"I first want to see it if reacts to me touching its wings," Hermione stated.

With Charlie watching on, Hermione reached out and gently stroked the pearly scales of one of its wings. The dragon's body wiggled in her lap, as if it had been tickled, as Hermione continued to run her fingers over it.

After several moments, Charlie asked quietly from beside her, "Do you think it's working?"

"I'm not sure but the Antipodean Opaleye doesn't seem responsive," Hermione regaled with interest. "Let me try the other wing."

Hermione then rubbed the dragon's other side as it again squirmed, making her smile.

"It keeps looking at the piece of meat," Charlie then noted. "It's probably hungry."

"And yet you won't let us tear off a small piece to feed it," Hermione remarked, giving him a pointed look.

He held up his hands as if he was surrendering to a whole host of aurors, responding, "I'm not trying to be mean but this is how I usually train the baby dragons. They get it after some time."

"Well how long is 'some time'?"

"Usually a couple of hours," he answered. "I've found that patience is the true key in working with these little buggers," he stated, rubbing the Antipodean Opaleye's head.

As Hermione nodded her head in understanding, she continued the practice of massaging her fingers over the wings of the dragon, wordlessly willing for them to open under her touch. While she was doing this, several thoughts, none having anything to do with the beast straddling her lap, ran through her head.

"Did you hear about Director Mulligan," she asked Charlie quietly.

Looking over at her, he asked, "About how he's staying for another couple of weeks?"

Hermione gave him a swift nod before he elaborated, "It probably has something to do with Sprought. The lunatic thinks he can just stop by whenever he wants. I mean, doesn't he have a job to do with the Ministry? I'm sure his duties require much more of him than to keep up with the reserve."

"Phillip told me yesterday that Sprought has been watching the Victorian Shalers repeatedly," Hermione added. "According to Phillip, it's almost as if he's waiting for something to happen; it's like he knows more about them than even we do."

"That's certainly a possibility," Charlie said back. "That species is shrouded in a bit of mystery. Maybe he does know more than he's letting on."

Hermione considered this as her eyes wandered over to the individual dragon pens before her. Her eyes looked over the snow-ridden landscape of the enclosure of a Norwegian Ridgeback before taking a glance at the rainforest pen next to it, where Hermione was told two Brazilian Bastions dwelled.

"Do you have any new theories about what Phillip told us several days ago, about Wormey knowing Sprought," Hermione then brought up.

"Well, we already ruled out that Wormey was the house-elf for Sprought since Wormey said that the family he served lives in Wales, and Sprought is from London. Also, didn't Wormey say that he was freed by his family too?"

"Yeah, he did," Hermione said.

"So we have a powerful but bad family from Wales," Charlie began, holding up one finger, "that said family freeing Wormey," holding up a second finger, "and Wormey knowing of Sprought," he finished, raising a third finger. "The only family I know from Wales is Terrance's but they have a house-elf named Berry. It's like we keep running into dead end after dead end," Charlie pointed out, laughing though there was no joviality in it.

"We could be missing something, something that's completely obvious," Hermione proposed.

"You think?"

"I do," she replied after a long minute. "I think the key is Phillip; the only problem is is that his memory is a little hazy. It's not his fault, it's just how it is."

"You know what I just realized," Charlie suddenly announced, looking directly at Hermione as she held his stare.

"What?"

"Things have never been this complicated on the reserve before. It's only since you started that everything has become a mess."

Unable to hold it in, Hermione shot him a small smile, sensing that the second-oldest Weasley son was trying to lighten the mood that had befallen them.

"Are you insinuating that I'm the cause?"

Charlie gave his shoulders a small shrug, "Your words, not mine."

This caused Hermione to laugh, carefree and innocent. Amused, Charlie's brows rose into his forehead as he continued to look over at Hermione, yet before long, he found her laugh to be infectious as a smile started to play over his own lips.

"Find something funny," he played.

"I just find you entertaining is all," she shot right back, without losing her own footing.

Charlie snorted before he said, "Then I think you'd be happy to know that I find you equally enjoyable. But I have to say, I'm kind of disappointed in you."

Hermione gave him an odd look as he furthered, "You never did try to, what did you say exactly, 'walk through me one way or another,' was it?"

"Are you talking about the morning we first arrived in Wales?"

As Charlie nodded his head, Hermione scoffed, "You actually think I forgot about that? What do you take me out to be?"

"Someone who doesn't follow through on their promises."

"Oh, so are we calling persuasion techniques 'promises' now? Because if I remember correctly, you were the one coercing me to walk through you one way or another."

"Fine, you call it how you see and I'll call it how I see it. Can we both agree though that we reached a stalemate?"

"Of course not," Hermione responded quickly. "I'm still going to follow through on my 'promise' as you put it. You just won't see it coming."

The smile that had started to emerge over Charlie's lips mere minutes before grew wider and wider, though Hermione could tell he was trying very hard to suppress it.

Leaning against her so that the tips of their noses touched, he whispered, "Game on, then, Granger."

As Hermione stared in Charlie's eyes, brown versus blue, she felt a strong urge to snog Charlie. The only thing that was keeping her back was that they were both strictly working. And kissing on the job was certainly not on her itinerary, not to mention how completely inappropriate it would be for them to partake in a sensual act that usually was reserved behind closed doors.

Hermione was about to push Charlie playfully away when the Antipodean Opaleye suddenly jumped between them, causing the couple to spring apart in surprise.

The dragon then turned towards Hermione and nuzzled against her shoulder, while Charlie shot off a small look of jealousy.

Noticing this, Hermione inquired, "Something on your mind, Charles?"

"Yeah, that this guy should get his own girl. He can chase after one of the Shalers if he likes."

Charlie's words, however, gave Hermione an idea.

"Hang on," she started to say, making Charlie look over at her. "Maybe we can try something else to get the Antipodean Opaleye to fly."

"What've you got in mind now?"

"What if I get the dragon to follow me? Do you think we could get it to fly then?"

"Follow you? What d'you mean?"

"If I run around the area with the piece of meat," Hermione explained.

"Well, it does seem to like you," Charlie mulled over, "a bit too much for my taste, if I'm to be honest with you. But it's worth a shot."

Hermione nodded her head, a new strength of mind set about her. After she gently placed the dragon on the ground, she walked over to the floating mutton, the Antipodean Opaleye's multicolored eyes following her every movement.

Flinging her wand at the slab of meat, Hermione slowly started to drag it behind her with her wand. She made a wide circle around the rock Charlie was still situated upon, as both he and the baby dragon watched her.

"Try lowering it, Hermione," Charlie requested, "it'll seem more feasible to him."

Hermione did as she was told, as she directed the meat to skirt over the soft grass. While the Antipodean Opaleye didn't move, its eyes were fixed upon the food that had avoided being ravished by its jaws thus far.

Finishing her second circle, Hermione ushered, "Come on, come and get it."

Answering her call, the dragon leapt up and darted after the block of meat. Hermione watched it with looks over her shoulder to see how closer the newborn was. After completing another rotation, Hermione directed the meat slightly higher than it was before.

The Antipodean Opaleye snapped at it and missed it by mere inches, yet it kept running after it. Each time Hermione circled around the rock, she directed the mutton to fly higher and higher, though the dragon still wouldn't spread its wings.

Lowering the meat a bit, Hermione finished another revolution with the Antipodean Opaleye hot on her heels. Snatching upon the air twice more, the dragon seemed to grow more steadfast, keeping pace with Hermione.

"Come on buddy," Hermione heard Charlie cajole, "just spread 'em."

"Almost there," Hermione then called back to the beast, "all you have to do is spread your wings."

Upon her words, the Antipodean Opaleye's wings suddenly burst open with incredible power, forcing small clumps of grass to be uprooted and litter the air. Hermione was so stunned that she stopped running while she faintly heard Charlie give a _whoop!_ of accomplishment.

With its jaws open, the dragon flew directly at the chunk of meat, tackling it to the ground. As the beast started to devour it with a swift pace, a voice said behind her, "Nicely done."

She turned and saw Charlie giving her a bright smile, his arms folded over his chest once more.

"I'm so proud of it," Hermione exclaimed, looking back at the Antipodean Opaleye, small bouts of moisture pooling against her eyes.

"That was pretty incredible if I do say so myself. I'll make sure to try it with the next set of babies."

"It wasn't anything special," Hermione tried to shrug off, though she had a proud feeling encase her heart.

"I don't know…it seems like you and the little guy have made quite the bond. It's important, really. It'll be easier when he gets bigger. Humans have big impressions on baby dragons which they remember all the way into adulthood. You should stick with him, Hermione."

"I will, I like him too much to let anyone else train him."

"Have you thought up of a name for him yet?"

Hermione looked back at the newborn, it having consumed half of its meat already. Returning to face Charlie, she said, "Not yet, but something will come up sooner or later."

* * *

Hours following the Antipodean Opaleye's successful first flying session, Hermione was resting against her headboard, the piece of parchment all of her notes were gathered on bunched up in her hands, the newest edition being 'Wormey' and that of a single line of ink connecting 'Sprought' to 'Wormey' based upon what Phillip told her and Charlie several days prior.

Her face was scrunched up in concentration, trying to find a link that would make sense of the seemingly accidental words that were written down, attempting to create a common ground for which things would start making sense. Yet nothing came to her.

Tucking a stray curl behind her ear, Hermione initially thought that Wormey must have been Sprought's house-elf, but Charlie had informed her that Sprought lived in London, while Wormey told them back in Woan that he was released from his family that resided in Wales. This then left Terrance's name on the table, except Charlie again discredited this notion, informing her that the Wriley family already had a house-elf, one that went by the name of Berry.

Harboring this in mind though, Hermione and Charlie still agreed that Sprought had much more to do with the dragons, namely the Victorian Shalers, than he let on, Charlie going so far as to offer the idea that maybe Sprought ordered the poachers to infiltrate the Romanian Dragon Reserve, yet for what purpose was a question he didn't have an answer for.

Frustrated that she and Charlie were fishing out more questions than answers, Hermione huffed, closing her eyes to gain a peace of mind. She collected herself in the stillness of her room, soft snores of Charlie drifting through the bottom crack of her bedroom door, calming her against her senses and roaring state of mind. Before long, against her wishes, she fell asleep.

* * *

Smoke filled her nostrils, one that smelled like it drifted from a recently-extinguished fire; it had an odor that reminded her of the open woods. She opened her eyelids in which Hermione first spotted an entryway before her, pitch blackness being her path.

Looking around, Hermione concluded that she was in some sort of dungeon, stone walls surrounded her. Up above, moonlight crept in through a high-landing, yet Hermione stood far below it.

Seeing no other option for which to take, she stepped under the entrance into the darkness. Coldness engulfed her, filling her lungs to its absolute maximum while her breathing became ragged, feeling as if at any point in time something or someone was going to jump out at her. The passageway she was proceeding down was so dim that Hermione had to drag her hand upon the wall to guide her forward.

'Where am I,' she thought mentally, finding her capability of speech stolen, her vocal chords having since died after a prolonged life of torture.

Her head began to pound against the silence, as a spoonful of fear was spreading throughout her heart, her veins pumping this terror throughout the rest of her body. She had the idea to turn back, to perhaps find another way out of whatever structure she was a prisoner in, yet her feet had a mind of its own, carrying her forward.

Up ahead, an orange glow burned around a corner, Hermione not wanting to turn it. She tried with all of her might to stop in her tracks, to turn back, and pushing against the onslaught that would surely come once she made her way around it. However, it seemed like her will of mind was separated from her, an ancient, long-lost memory of a burning sun that had since sunk past a frozen horizon, its landscape barren with nothing but sharp icicles and frozen waters.

Drawing ever closer, Hermione tried to reach for her wand but to her horror, found that was stripped of all of her clothing. Naked was she, walking to her own end.

Once she turned the foreboding corner of the orange glow, she inwardly gasped, as she now faced a long hall, lit by the flickering flames that burned in metal brackets stuck over the rough stone walls, Death Eaters lining her path.

They all stared at her in a haunting manner, the followers of Lord Voldemort having been shed of their masks they wore to cover their features, all of them looking as if they had been dragged through a battlefield of glass shards, many of them having blood run down their pale faces.

Hermione then wanted nothing more but to turn around and run back along the darkened passageway, for at least there would be no Death Eaters there while the blackness could clothe her naked body. Nonetheless, just as before, her feet carried her forward, defenseless, between the flanking Death Eaters.

She tried to muster her courage and dignity she harbored yet found that they had since sunk like a heavy treasure chest, falling into the pits of a bottomless ocean. She glanced up at some of the faces she passed by, recognizing some but not others. She wondered if this path she was on would lead towards the one Lord Voldemort.

The flames of the fire cast long shadows over the walls, resembling faceless beasts that marveled at what was set to soon take place.

Passing the final two Death Eaters, none other than Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov, Hermione then entered an open space, not too large, yet not too small, with a stone table situated in its middle. Curiously though, she saw that the same Antipodean Opaleye she trained earlier that day was resting on top of it, it being no bigger than her forearm, its pearly scales reflecting the fire glow behind her.

She walked forward, her footsteps echoing around her, when a figure suddenly appeared out of the darkness: Sprought.

"You fight for what doesn't exist," he whispered, his voice sending an arctic chill curling up her spinal cord, making her shiver uncontrollably. "You know what you have to do."

Sprought held out both of his hands towards Hermione, as if he was asking her to dance, when a wand materialized in them. Unable to control her own actions, her hands reached for the wand and grasped it in her right hand.

Dread consuming her heart, she pointed it at the baby dragon, letting loose a jet of purple and orange sparks. As they connected with the dragon, the head of the Antipodean Opaleye was instantly disconnected from its body, it falling to the wayside as the body of the dragon staggered about, blood spurting from its open neck like a water feature.

In the next instant, to Hermione's complete shock, the dragon was righted, its head still intact with its body except that Hermione found her hand holding the wand Sprought gave her being raised again, shooting off another jet of purple and orange sparks, the head of the baby dragon being severed. More blood spurted out until the head was reattached to its body.

Like an endless cycle, Hermione again cut off the head of the dragon, against her own will, only for it to repair itself in order for Hermione to carry out the horrific act again.

'No,' she whispered in her head, 'no, no, no!'

She sensed Sprought watching on in glee, his eyes lit with the blood that gushed out of the dragon's headless body, his smile giving way to sharp teeth that looked as if it would have no trouble in piercing the thick hide of any dragon he set his sights on.

'No,' Hermione willed again, feeling her body shake. 'No! NO!'

She then felt her body convulse violently as a voice that sounded miles away yelled, "HERMIONE! HERMIONE, WAKE UP!"

* * *

Throwing open her eyes, she found Charlie bending over her, his face masking worry and fear.

"Hermione," he then said gently, seeing that she was now awake.

"Charlie," she breathed out, reaching up and wrapping her arms around his bare shoulders, pulling her close to him. She buried her head against the nape of his neck, stifling a sob, yet kept her eyes open in fear that she would transport back to the horror she just exited out of.

"It's okay," he soothed in a gentle manner, taking a seat on her bed and holding her against his body, "it's okay…it was just a dream."

Hermione sniffled, taking in the bearings of her bedroom, the lights still on, her parchment of notes a hand-reach away.

Cold beads of sweat tore down her cheeks, yet Charlie didn't seem to mind, as he kept her close, his hands locked behind her back, offering small words of comfort.

No matter how hard she tried, Hermione could not get rid of the image of the baby Antipodean Opaleye's head being dismembered and the rush of blood that followed. She remembered it in graphic detail, so much so that she was beginning to feel sick. Hermione began taking in deep breaths, her body still trembling from her nightmare she had just experienced, focusing on breathing in and breathing out, breathing in and breathing out.

Taking a few minutes to calm herself, Charlie holding her the entire time without question, she slowly pulled away from him, extracting her arms from his shoulders. They peered at each other for a long moment, neither of them saying a word to each other.

Charlie then punctured the silence, asking in a strained voice, "Hermione, what happened?"

She shook her head softly to her left and right in disbelief, casting her eyes down on her lap instead of looking him in the eyes.

"I had a dream…well more like a nightmare," she answered in a whisper.

After a slight pause, Charlie inquired, "Of what?"

She sniffled, looking back up into his face, replying, "It started off weird. I was at the bottom of some tower and I was naked. I walked down this dark passageway before I turned a corner and saw Death Eaters lining another walkway, but this one was lit. At the end of it, I entered into this chamber of sorts with a table in the center; Sprought was there and the baby Antipodean Opaleye was too."

"Death Eaters…and Sprought," Charlie questioned in a confused manner, his eyebrows pulling together like two magnets over his head.

"Yeah but that wasn't the worse part."

Hermione then stopped, finding herself unable to go on. Charlie took one of her hands in both of his, warming it against his touch.

"You don't have to tell me."

"No," Hermione arose firmly, "I do. I can't keep it inside."

Charlie sighed, though nodded his head and waited patiently for her to continue, enveloping her hand the entire time.

Hermione took a deep breath as the ghastly images of the Antipodean Opaleye's wriggling, headless body rushed back into her.

"The Antipodean Opaleye…I…cut off its head," Hermione murmured, looking up into Charlie's eyes, not once looking away from them. "I did it with a wand Sprought gave to me."

Charlie was quiet for a long time as he sat quite still as well. He, like Hermione, didn't look away from her, didn't push her hand out of his in revulsion like she thought he would over the death of a beloved baby dragon, but he just stared at her, with an expression that was most unreadable and hard to decipher.

For her part, Hermione was disgusted by herself and the actions she had taken up in her nightmare. Something about it was so haunting, bringing about the times when the past war would sneak their way into her sub consciousness, sometimes making her dread the night of what was to come.

"Hermione," Charlie began after some time, "it was just a night terror, nothing more."

"I haven't had one of those in a long time," she responded darkly, "not since back at the Burrow."

"D'you think…that this might maybe have been brought upon," he then requested.

Hermione gave him a confused look, not comprehending what he was trying to get at.

"I-I don't understand."

Giving a half shrug of his shoulders, the second-oldest Weasley reiterated, "Maybe with everything that's been going on with the poachers, Sprought, the auror that pleaded guilty into killing one of the poachers, maybe the stress of all of it brought this nightmare on. I mean, recently, this past summer was the calm between two storms: the first being the war with You-Know-Who and the second being what we're dealing with now."

"You think that's what it is?"

"I dunno for sure but it's possible. If I'm to be honest with you, Hermione, even though your night terror was horrible, I don't think it was like a premonition of sorts. It was just a compounding effect of all of your recent thoughts and feelings."

"I didn't like it though. I don't ever want to see what I did in my sleep again."

Charlie gave her a frown of a smile before he asked, "Do you need anything? A glass of water? Some tea?"

"I think a little tea sounds good," Hermione answered.

Charlie nodded his head in understanding before he stood up from her bed, her hand still wrapped in his, as they both departed from her bedroom, walked down the dark hall and into the kitchen.

"Take a seat, I'll make us some," he instructed gently.

Hermione did as she was told, sitting down in one of the kitchen chairs at the table, looking down at the latest edition of the Daily Prophet, which had more screaming headlines about the guilty auror being shipped off to Azkaban Prison.

It was at this time that Hermione remembered something else from her nightmare, words that she had heard before. Looking over at Charlie waving his wand to and fro, making objects swirl around him, Hermione called out, "Charlie?"

He turned at the sound of his name as she went on, "Sprought said something to me in my dream."

"What did he say?"

She retained his statement crystal clear as she repeated, "He said, 'You fight for what doesn't exist.'"

Charlie seemed to roll this over his head before he directed back, "Didn't the poacher back in Woan say something like that to you?"

"It was pretty much the same thing," Hermione relented, "word for word. That has to mean something, dream or not. I just wonder what though."

"Perhaps you shouldn't think of what it means," Charlie suddenly remarked, making Hermione look up at him in curiosity.

"But Charlie-," she started before he cut her off.

"Hermione, you just woke up from a night terror, a horrible one at that, and now you're trying to work out one mystery after another with no end in sight. You need to calm down and relax. You're working yourself up in the middle of the night for no reason."

She looked over at him as he leaned against one of the kitchen counters waiting for the water to boil, his arms folded over his bare chest.

Ignoring how little clothing he was wearing at that specific point in time, she retorted, "But this could all mean something, Charlie. Maybe elements of my dream fit in to what we're trying to figure out."

"And what exactly are we trying to find out? There isn't one question that we have that relates back to another. All we're doing is running in circles. We don't work in the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, we're not even aurors. You heard what Director Mulligan told us before: they've opened up an investigation about what happened in Woan while the Romanian Unitary Magical Republic has done the same. We have to let them deal with it and that's all there is to it."

"But that's only one of our problems! There's everything else like the house in the woods, Sprought's overall objective of being on the reserve, which just happened to be when the Victorian Shalers are born, Wormey having some sort of connection to Sprought…,"

"Hermione, I agree that there are a lot of events going on that don't make a lot of sense but why do you insist on solving everything in one night? Did it ever cross your mind that maybe waiting for things to unfold would be the best action to take? I know you're one of the hero's of the war but that doesn't mean you have to be the hero of everything after."

While Charlie didn't scream at her, his words punctured her as if he had. She looked up at him and saw that he was tense: his shoulders were locked, his breathing was heavier than normal, while his usually bright-blue eyes had grown cold.

"Is that what this is about," she asked, standing to her feet, "you think that I'm trying to play the role of a hero?"

After a pause, Charlie started in a tart manner, "I dunno; if you are, I don't think it's intentional. I just don't understand why you have to make sense of everything in one night. Life doesn't work like that as I'm sure you know. Sometimes patience is the key…unfortunately for you, it just doesn't seem like you have that."

Hermione bit her bottom lip (an action usually reserved to keep from letting tears fall) as she looked away from Charlie, hurt by his words. She thought about recoiling back to her bedroom yet her maturity kept her from doing so.

Turning to face him again, she said in a damaged yet passionate tone, "I'm sorry you feel that way but that's just who I am. Maybe we should've waited a bit longer to find out more about each other to find out what qualities we have or don't have that suits the other's needs before we started dating."

Looking over at one another, the kitchen table with the Daily Prophet upon it standing between them, Charlie replied curtly, "Maybe you're right."

His statement cut her like the sharpest of swords making Hermione slowly turned on the spot, blinking rapidly as she felt her tear drops were poised to fall at any second, as she made her way back down the hall. Charlie didn't follow, nor did she want him to because at that moment, she felt so wounded and so alone, feeling her heart ice over in a glacier-like glass, a stone-throw away from disintegrating into tiny pieces.

She didn't hear the tea kettle squealing about seconds later, indicating that the water was now boiling, for she had shut her bedroom door, paired off with a silencing charm. She crawled back in her bed, long forgetting of the nightmare she had experienced a quarter of an hour ago. Drawing up her covers and extinguishing her room's light, she finally let her tears escape, wanting nothing more than to start her night over again.

* * *

The following morning, Hermione crept out of her and Charlie's house early, before the latter could wake, as she stepped out into the early morning sun, peeking over the tips of the tall surrounding trees, a cool chill hanging in the air.

Hermione cried herself to sleep the previous night, though night terrors remained at bay. And while Charlie's words to her resonated deeply within, she thought that diving into her work for the day would help her forget what was exchanged between the two.

She walked between the rows of homes, relishing in the peace and quiet that surrounded her; it was a welcome change to the night before.

Stepping into the Center of Directions several minutes later, she saw Terrance and Director Mulligan already there. They both were having a whispered conversation between themselves which abruptly settled when they saw her enter.

"You're here early, Miss Granger," Mulligan noted with a hint of surprise. "The dragons aren't scheduled to be fed for another hour yet."

"I got an early start," she shrugged, her voice feeling raw from its hours of non-usage.

"Charlie behind you or something," Terrance then asked, looking over at her inquiringly.

"No, he's, he's back at the house," she answered firmly.

Terrance regarded her carefully before he issued, "You two had a quarrel, didn't you? I guess the honeymoon stage is finally over then?"

"Mr. Wriley," Mulligan warned, leveling him with a cold glare.

"It's alright, director," Hermione began, "what's happened happened."

As a discomfited silence fell around them, Mulligan remarked, "Well then, I'm going to go check on the Victorian Shalers. Be back in a few."

With that, he exited the pavilion.

Hermione inwardly sighed as she made her way to the center of the tent, looking down upon the large table that hosted a map of the dragon enclosures, each one having small pictures of each dragon that dwelled in them. As she was doing so, she felt Terrance's eyes upon her, reminding her of the times he had done so before.

"Something on your mind," she suddenly called out, though her eyes were still glued onto the map before her.

"What," he laughed, as she then looked up at him.

"You keep staring at me at odd times," Hermione threw back.

Terrance crossed his arms over his chest, as if was gearing up for a challenge.

"I didn't know that that was a crime."

"It's not but none of the other workers have the need to stare," she retorted, feeling her blood start to simmer.

"Forgive me if I'm keeping an eye out for my best mate. I assume he told you what happened the last time he felt in 'love', didn't he," Terrance fired, stressing the word 'love.'

"As a matter of fact, he did tell me. It's terrible what happened and wasn't fair to Charlie but you don't need to worry about me acting like that to him." As she said this, Hermione recalled what they had said to each other the previous night, sounding off against the very confines of her core.

"Yeah, that's what they all say."

Before Hermione could respond, a thought chimed within Hermione, making her pause for a moment as she studied Terrance.

"Did you have a bad experience before?"

Terrance half-shrugged, answering, "Not a bad experience…many bad experiences. Every bird I meet offers the same: a kiss, a shag, but nothing worth settling down for – they're all the same."

"From what I've seen, you don't seem to be looking to settle down," Hermione blurted out before she could stop herself.

Terrance's face remained impassive as he took in her words. For a moment, Hermione had the distinct feeling he was going to whip out his wand and throw a hex at her, but to her immense surprise, he started laughing, carefree and cheerful, two dimples appearing on either side of his mouth.

Feeling out of place, Hermione continued to stare over at him, wondering what the source of his hilarity was.

"I guess I deserved that," he managed to choke out, rubbing both of his hands over his brown buzz-cut. "Okay, I'll admit, I do tend to flirt a bit here and there. But I don't see anything wrong with having random flings some nights."

Hermione decided it would be best if she didn't answer him as she didn't think his 'random flings' occurred some nights, but rather, they were of a nightly occurrence.

"I fell in love once, with some bird from around the village I'm from," he elaborated.

"From somewhere nearby then," Hermione asked, "since you're from Wales?"

"Some miles away, yeah."

"I guess things didn't work out."

Terrance held Hermione's eyes with his as he continued, "Things were revealed - secrets, and we just couldn't come together cohesively afterwards. It was no one's fault except life itself."

"I'm sorry."

Terrance shook his head from side to side, "You have no reason to be. These type of things happen all the time."

However, before any other matters could be traded between the two, Mulligan rushed back into the tent, his face a red flush, his chest heaving.

"Director Mulligan, are you okay," Hermione asked, making Terrance take in his appearance as well.

"One of the Victorian Shalers," he gasped in between long breaths, "has escaped."

Hermione looked over at Terrance who suddenly tensed at this news.

"Escaped," he questioned, "director, escaped where?"

"Where do you think Mr. Wriley? It ran into one of the dragon pens!"

"But how? Weren't Reyville and Cope training them," Terrance queried in a rushed manner.

"They were, but when I went to check on them, they both were incapacitated. I saw one of the newborns go towards the enclosures; the little devil is fast. I caged the other before it could get away. We need to gather and go after it or else one of the full-grown dragons will surely kill it," Mulligan ordered, running towards the map Hermione and Terrance were still near.

They all looked down at it, trying to find where the baby Victorian Shaler had gone off to. Hermione's eyes darted left and right, up and down, trying to locate it, however, she unable to do so.

"Director," Terrance said, "is the Shaler even on here? I can't see it."

Hermione looked up at Mulligan and saw his face was lined with worry. She knew that he couldn't find it either.

"This is a curious little feature, isn't it? The Victorian Shaler has to be somewhere here," Mulligan said though more to himself. Shaking his head roughly, he then stated, "We'll have to go look for it on our own then, we'll figure out what's wrong with this bloody thing later. Let me call everyone here, and then we can divide in pairs."

Mulligan pointed his wand at an angle above him and made a large loop with it. Instantly, a patronus in the form of a sparrow surged forth and flew out of the Center of Directions with haste.

Just a few seconds later, several workers of the reserve ran into the tent, joining Mulligan, Hermione, and Terrance, though Charlie wasn't one of them.

"Here already," Mulligan asked with sincere surprise.

"We were on our way," the worker in the front answered.

"Good, good, well you lot will have to start. One of the Victorian Shalers escaped into one of the dragon pens," Mulligan explained, "the only problem is, we don't know which one."

"Doesn't it show up on the map," one of the handlers inquired.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Wriley, and I all looked but couldn't spot it," Mulligan forwarded. "We have no choice and no time to waste to go after it. It's still a baby and the other dragons won't hesitate to go after it. Since it's near breakfast time, go in pairs, one per pen, and locate it."

"Director," one of the workers voiced, "if a pair does spot it, how will they let the others know?"

At this, Mulligan's eyes fell on Hermione.

"If my memory serves me correctly, Miss Granger had a fruitful idea when we went after the Romanian Longhorn back in the Castle of Stone that worked rather well. Leather cuffs, was it?"

"Yes, just a simple modification of the Protean charm with each cuff will make it act as its own master," Hermione supplied, "we can all then communicate with each other through them."

Without a second's hesitation, Mulligan waved his wand, making a handful of thick, brown leather cuffs appear, each one big enough for a full message to appear on.

"Miss Granger, if you please," Mulligan said, gesturing towards the cuffs.

Hermione nodded as she quickly got to work, placing the Protean charm upon each object.

"Since we are so little in time, take one per pair," Mulligan voiced out.

"But sir," another handler piped in, "there aren't enough of us to cover all of the enclosures."

"That is why we have these cuffs, so that we can communicate with each other," Mulligan answered impatiently. "Obviously, some pens will be nothing more than a quick sweep while others will require a long, in-depth search. As more handlers show up, I'll pair them off to go to another pen. The Victorian Shaler can only be in one of the enclosures and it can't move from one to the next. We need to start as soon as possible though. So divide up and quickly discuss which pair will go to each pen, and don't forget to grab a leather cuff!"

The workers already gathered started discussing who would be paired with whom, and which pair they would undertake. Hermione, however, stood back, preferring to wait for Charlie.

Terrance approached, two broomsticks in each hand, as he said, "You want to pair up?"

"Um, I-I think I'll wait for Charlie," she returned with a tight smile.

"Hermione, all of us are on one mission to rescue one of the Victorian Shalers. Charlie will understand. It's not like we're going off for a romatic hike in the mountains – this is strictly business."

"I'm not much of a flyer," Hermione then supplied.

"You can ride behind me then," Terrance offered, setting aside one broom.

Hermione, finding no other option for which to take as Terrance was the only worker without a partner, nodded her head, as she grabbed a leather cuff off and wrapped it around her wrist.

As the two left the Center of Directions and stepped outside with the other pairs, Hermione asked, "Which enclosure are we going to?"

"My favorite actually and the one I know the best," he responded, "the Brazilin Bastions. Their pen resembles their natural habitat, the Amazon Rainforest."

"There are dragons there," Hermione asked in wonder, as she had read about the different creatures that live in the Amazon Rainforest, yet have never come across that of a dragon.

"Yeah, there's not many left though because of the damn poachers," Terrance said back. "Anyway, are you ready?"

Just as she nodded and was about to mount the broomstick Terrance was on, a voice suddenly exclaimed, "Hermione!"

They both turned around and saw Charlie racing towards them, a broomstick in one hand, a look of betrayal caressing his features.

"Charlie," Terrance called out, as Hermione thought she detected a hint of disappointment in his voice. "Just in time. Hermione and I were about to head out to the enclosures."

"Yeah, I got the message," Charlie responded with slight bitterness. "But Hermione's riding with me."

"Well whoever she's riding with, let's go; we're wasting time sitting here talking!"

Charlie mounted his broom as Hermione climbed on behind him, as the two broomsticks then zoomed off towards the dragon pens to find the baby Victorian Shaler.

Even though Charlie seemed incredibly taut (Hermione having no doubt as to why), she still felt comfortable pressed against his back, with her hands locked around his middle. Yes, they had said words to each other the previous night, hurtful nuances that paraded within their minds yet Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that riding with Charlie, and him only, was the right thing to do, strained relationship or not.

If Charlie hadn't shown up, it was highly likely that Hermione would've ridden behind Terrance but the feeling wouldn't have been the same; to her, she was positive that it would feel strictly platonic and nothing more. With Charlie, it was different. Being so close against his body sent tingling sensations that stretched all the way down to her toes, even now going after the Victorian Shaler.

"Come on then," Terrance yelled out at them, as Hermione briefly got a glimpse of the individual enclosures that formed a large circle, before Charlie dived downward, making Hermione bite back a scream as her heart lunged upwards into her throat. She closed her eyes on the downfall before the feeling suddenly subsided.

Slowly opening her eyelids, Hermione saw that she, Charlie, and Terrance had entered into the pens of the Brazilian Bastions.

"Terrance, we have to search the ground. There's no way the Victorian Shaler will be able to fly yet," Charlie reasoned, as the two broomsticks hung in midair over a dense rainforest, lush with vibrant shades of green, noises of many different animals along with several nearby waterfalls ringing in Hermione's ears.

"We have to be careful down there," Terrance said back, looking first at Charlie then Hermione. "You know how dangerous the forest floor is."

Charlie half look over his shoulder at Hermione himself before he responded, "Don't worry about Hermione, she'll be with me. Let's just search the area and see if the Shaler is in here."

With that, Charlie maneuvered his broom downward and through the underbrush, Terrance following suit, as they soon entered mild darkness, the trees converging so close together above them that the sunlight was partially blocked out, the forest floor made nothing besides fallen, curled leaves.

"You think some wand-light might help," Terrance questioned in a low voice.

"Only one," Charlie directed, "some creatures here attack the light."

Before proceeding further, Hermione took out her wand and whispered, " _Lumos_ ," as her wand tip instantly ignited in a blue-white glow.

"Okay, let's continue and remember, keep your eyes open for the Shaler but beware of the Bastions," Charlie warned, issuing his broom forward, "and Hermione, try to stay on behind me. This rainforest is full of poisonous animals and plants, both magical and non-magical, and wouldn't hesitate to attack us. Just…just hold onto me."

Hermione nodded, becoming aware of how nervous Charlie was in her getting hurt. It was at this time that she knew Charlie hadn't meant what he said to her last night, agreeing that maybe they shouldn't have gotten together; for her part, Hermione didn't mean what she said either, it was just the rush of their argument that propelled the couple to throw dynamite at one another, but she mentally shook her head of these thoughts for now, as her main priority was to find the Shaler without any casualties.

The trio continued on, the awning above them becoming thicker and thicker, making Terrance take out his own wand to give them a second light, while the noises of the hidden animals became louder and louder.

Hermione sensed that dangerous animals, big, medium, and small were watching the group advance deeper into the forest behind the thick trees or somewhere in the heavy underbrush below, akin to what she experienced in her nightmare of the Death Eaters flanking both her sides as she walked down the long passageway.

Hermione then spotted a bright plant, it looking like a colossal mushroom being half the size of the tree next to it, only it was bright purple and had heavy, blue tendrils protruding from its cap that jutted out at random intervals, always bringing back a pocket of small bugs with it.

The broomsticks then flew over a wide creek in which a large stone situated beside it was covered in bright-colored blue and red frogs, hopping onto each other. Four frogs at once jumped onto Terrance's jeans yet he quickly brushed them off as they fell back towards the ground.

"How big is this place," Hermione asked in a quiet voice.

"Massive," Charlie replied seriously, "and it only gets more dangerous the farther we go on."

"Surely we haven't flown this far before when feeding the dragons their breakfasts', have we," Hermione questioned.

"No, we haven't. It's not a good sign that we haven't spotted them yet," Charlie answered.

"Charlie, watch out!"

Terrance's voice suddenly punctuated the air, piercing it of its stillness. Charlie and Hermione whipped their heads in the directions of their comrade's pointed finger only to see a large jaguar, its teeth barred, lunging at them.

"Hold on, Hermione," Charlie yelled out, as he skillfully spun their broomstick upside down as Terrance retracted away. The cat roared with aggressiveness before it pounced forward towards them again.

Charlie, not anticipating this second attack, propelled the broom forward, the jaguar falling into a heavy scrub, becoming entangled in its branches and vines, only to run into Terrance. The collision knocked Terrance off of his broom where he fell with a heavy _ompf!_ onto the forest floor, his broomstick snapping in two under his weight.

The instant he did so, hissing noises filled the air as Hermione looked down in horror to see a great host of what looked like no less than a dozen green and brown snakes race towards him, their forked tongues slipping out of their mouths, waiting to feast upon his human flesh.

Hermione, thinking nothing except getting Terrance to safety, pointed her wand at his black t-shirt and jeans and said, " _Wingardium Leviosa!_ "

Terrance was then lifted into the air, he having somehow managed to hang onto his wand. However it was not soon enough, for one of the green snakes lurched upwards and sunk its fangs into his ankle.

He screamed out in pain while Hermione screamed with him. Charlie brandished his wand, pointed it at the snake and yelled " _Confringo!_ " The serpent exploded, raining blood and pieces of its mangled body down upon its brothers.

Charlie flew over to the levitated Terrance and asked with haste, "Terrance, are you okay?"

"The bloody basilisk got my ankle," he replied, as Hermione helped him onto the broomstick behind her.

"Hermione, alert the others that we're going back. We have to get Terrance to the hospital."

"No! Charlie, we didn't come this far just to turn around! The Victorian Shaler is in here!"

"How do you know that," Charlie yelled, turning to look over his shoulder at him.

"You said so yourself! The Brazilian Bastions are never this far in the rainforest, especially when they're about to get fed! We have to continue on," Terrance reasoned, looking down at the vipers below them in hatred.

"Fine," Charlie nearly spat out, , clearly not happy about Terrance's predicament, yet he made the broomstick race forward again.

Hermione, squished between Charlie's back and Terrance's chest, felt rather uncomfortable in the physical position she was in but she was concerned about Terrance, who seemed to be having trouble breathing, while he grasped onto her right shoulder for support to stay upright.

"Terrance, I think we should get you looked at," Hermione remarked, looking over her shoulder.

"No…keep going," he breathed out, "I'll…be…fine."

With Charlie and Hermione's eyes peeled open coupled with Terrance's ragged and uneven breathing patterns, they passed over a small stream nestled among yellow bushes in which a low buzzing sound was emitting from before crossing below a spider's web, its owner being the size of a large dog.

Nearby, Hermione heard the sound of crashing water as she looked between two trees on her immediate right, only to spot what they were in here to find.

"Charlie, stop," she whispered feverishly, making him halt. "I see the Shaler."

At this, both Charlie and Terrance became alert, the former asking, "Where?"

Hermione pointed her finger as the trio set their sights on the baby Victorian Shaler, however, something about it wasn't right.

Careful not to draw attention to themselves, Charlie flew the broom closer to it yet kept them hidden under the trees.

Hermione looked over an open space and saw a scene before them in which its backdrop was made of a waterfall which then forged into a smooth river, its sides carved of stone. The Victorian Shaler was situated atop of a flat rock, its translucent periwinkle blue wings flapping away though it didn't take flight; instead, as its wings beat away, the circular pattern upon them was spinning in dizzying rotations while its body sparkled beautifully, as if thousands of jewels were swimming inside of it. It was a strange sight, one that harbored close to stunning, yet flirted with hazardous.

"Charlie, Hermione, look," Terrance whispered, his voice laced in pain, "one of the Brazilian Bastions is in the water!"

Both Charlie and Hermione looked to where he pointed as one of the fully-grown dragons was lying on its side in the waters of the river, motionless.

"Why's it doing that," Hermione asked.

"I dunno," Charlie responded, "but it shouldn't be like that. Terrance, something's wrong."

In response, Terrance issued out though with a strained effort, "Look at the other dragon."

Charlie and Hermione then directed their attention to the remaining Brazilian Bastion and saw that it seemed to be hypnotized, staring down at the tiny Victorian Shaler, engrossed in its beating wings and sparkling body.

"Is it hypnotized," Hermione questioned in awe.

"We have to stop this," Charlie instructed, as he pointed his wand at the Shaler and waved it. A second later, the beast was caged, its spell upon the Brazilian Bastion broken. However, once the fully-grown dragon noticed its unmoving mate in the waters below, it issued out a might _roar_ , one that shook the surrounding trees.

Charlie pointed his wand at the cage hosting the Victorian Shaler as he said, " _Accio!_ "

The cage then flew towards them, though to their misfortune, the Brazilian Bastion followed its trajectory.

Before Charlie could react, the dragon rapidly spun around, swinging its massive tail, cleanly snapping the trees around Charlie, Hermione, and Terrance in two separate pieces.

Hermione screamed as a mess of broken branches, leaves, twigs, and wood splinters fell around them. The dragon _roared_ again as it had spotted the hovering broomstick and charged forward.

"Charlie," Terrance began in a low voice, "get us out of here!"

Charlie tried to make a clean break, however was thwarted by the Brazilian Bastion as it snatched the tail-end of the broomstick and swung it viciously from side to side, making Charlie, Hermione, Terrance, and the caged Victorian Shaler fall off of it and splash into the river below.

Hermione resurfaced and found she was able to stand within the shallow waters, as both Charlie and Terrance rushed over to her.

The dragon let loose a massive bout of flame, yet the trio screamed out in unison, " _PROTEGO!_ "

Although a protective bubble shielded them from the oncoming flame, Hermione could still feel the heat of the fire, stopping mere inches away from her, Charlie, and Terrance.

The three then let loose a barrage of curses and hexes at the dragon before Hermione pointed her wand at the leather cuff she wore on her wrist and charmed over it, _'Shaler in Bastion pen; under attack. – H.G._ '

In the next instant, Hermione felt herself flying through the air, her middle screaming in pain. Her body fell against the immobile second Brazilian Bastion prior to splashing into the river again. She came to, wiping the water from her eyes, as she saw the tail of the dragon swinging wildly around again.

However, unbeknownst to it, Terrance had managed to climb aboard the broom they had all been shaken off before, as he raced forward towards the savage Brazilian Bastion, stopping right before its eyes.

Charlie and Hermione could only look on as the great dragon seemed to ready itself to unfurl a ball of flame. Before it could do so, Terrance, with speed like lightning, waved his wand in a complicated pattern, as a bright pink light started to flash, Hermione remembering that this was the same technique used on the Romanian Longhorn back in the Castle of Stone to put it to sleep.

Seeing the dragon halt its attack, Charlie rushed over to Hermione some feet away from him, and asked hurriedly, "Hermione, Hermione, are you hurt? Are you okay? I'm sorry about before, I'm sorry about everything! I shouldn't have said the things I did and I don't want us to fight anymore! I don't know what came over me last night! I just hate to see you in pain and I thought you could use a night just to relax! I want you to be safe and I want to keep you safe! I'm sorry!"

As Hermione started to answer his barrage of questions, the couple didn't notice that Terrance had successfully put the Brazilian Bastion to sleep, nor did they notice that the body of the great dragon was falling over them.


	22. Phillip's Confession

Chapter 22: Phillip's Confession

Hermione blinked her eyes open, soon becoming aware that she was staring up at a smooth, white ceiling, its surface bare except that of imbedded lights. Although there was a slight discomfort near her stomach, Hermione felt no physical pain, indicating a positive symptom of what she remembered last – one of the Brazilian Bastions collapsing on her and Charlie, its vast shadow serving as a warning to the duo.

Hermione sat up, wincing slightly as she did so, and looked around her: she was in a room, its beige walls nearly blank except for small, random frames that were plastered along it, hosting pictures of different plants that moved within a breeze that was isolated unto its individual border. A small wardrobe, made of two columns of drawers stood at one end of the room, while a circular mirror was complimented above it.

Suddenly, a door to her right opened and in walked a middle-aged man Hermione had never seen before, though he wore a friendly smile along with a pair of spectacles.

"Ah, Miss Granger, awake I see," the man remarked, walking towards her. "No need to worry," he plowed on, as Hermione opened her mouth to speak, "you're in good hands. My name is Henry Aldall, and I'm the head mediwizard here on the Wales Dragon Reserve. Quite the escapade you, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Wriely adventured off to, if I may."

"How are they," she blurted out, hoping they were not badly injured.

"Mr. Weasley will be okay, he just had a mild concussion that is gone now," Aldall began lightly. Soon, though, a crease between his brows formed as he continued, "Mr. Wriley on the other hand…well, it'll take some time for him to recover."

"He was bit by a snake in the Brazilian Bastions pen," Hermione informed.

"Yes, I gathered that myself," the wavy, brown-haired mediwzard nodded. "I managed to extract its venom but his ankle has swelled considerably. Medicines to contain snake poison is hard to come by on a dragon reserve, I'm afraid."

"He'll be fully healed though, won't he?"

"Of course, Miss Granger, of course he will. Like I said before, it may take some time for him to do so. But enough about my other patients, how do you feel? I repaired what injuries you had, three cracked ribs along with several bruises on your back, but nothing extensive."

"I feel fine," Hermione answered, "maybe a little tired but that's all."

"Good, good," Aldall responded cheerfully, "do you mind if I take another check?"

Hermione shook her head from left to right.

"Alright, just lie down on your back for me and try your very best not to move," he instructed, as Hermione did as she was told. She saw the mediwizard's wand hover mere inches from her body, as it traveled up from her toes to her head. Hermione looked on in fascination as small, thin wisps of red, blue, and purple burst forth from the tip of Aldall's wand, them seeming to specify Hermione's condition.

Finishing up, he then exclaimed, "Looks good, Miss Granger, everything looks good! No internal injuries I can find and everything else has healed as scheduled. Director Mulligan came by earlier and informed me to tell you to stay put, he'll be back shortly to question what happened. Now, if you excuse me, I have to attend back to Mr. Wriley."

Before the mediwizard could depart, however, Hermione called out, "Do you think it would be okay if I visited Charlie, I mean Mr. Weasley? Do you know if he's awake?"

At this, Aldall grinned and replied, "Yes, he's been asking for you as well. Take a right down the hall, first door on your left. In the wardrobe there, I believe we have some clothes for you to wear instead of the gown you're now in." With that, Henry Aldall exited her room.

Hermione neither grinned nor smiled at his words for a hive of butterflies beat their wings inside of her, making her fee lightweight, prepared to tread on sacred ground.

'At least he's okay,' Hermione thought inwardly, letting a sigh of relief issue out of her, 'that's all that matters.'

She climbed out of the bed she was in and made her way over the smooth tiled floor, sliding open the top drawer of her wardrobe and seeing hospital garb: a plain, white t-shirt and light blue sweatpants waiting for her. Shrugging off her gown and putting the items on, Hermione departed from her room, followed Aldall's directions and soon came face-to-face with Charlie's closed room door.

Hermione gulped loudly, her mind relentless against her wishes by replaying what she and Charlie had said to one another the night before. And while Charlie apologized for it, a bout of uneasiness settled within her, while a far-off voice suggested to her that she should go back to her own room until these edgy feelings blew over, if at all.

Hermione though shook her head of these thoughts, not wanting her and Charlie's relationship to be uncomfortable between them (after all, they did share the same living quarters). Gathering up her Gryffindor courage, Hermione knocked softly, leaning in close to hear what Charlie said.

A soft voice called out, "Yeah?"

Hermione sucked in a breath before she turned the silver knob of the purple door and walked inside. She saw that Charlie had already changed into the clothes the hospital provided them (him matching with Hermione), as he was sitting on the edge of his bed, his back facing the door. His head, however, was turned to look over his shoulder to see who his visitor was.

When he saw Hermione, he didn't give her a smile or a grin for that matter; all he did was give his head a very curt nod, one of aggravated formality, before he tucked his head down towards his chest.

While hurt, Hermione didn't expect him to jump up and rush towards her, not after the previous night. If that indeed had occurred, she would've thought that Charlie had suffered from a severe concussion instead of a mild one.

Hermione shut the door behind her and slowly walked over with her arms folded over her chest as if she was cold and stood in front of him, hoping that she could get him to look up at her. He didn't but he did pat the spot next to him on the bed, as she took a seat beside him, now uncrossing her arms in worry that he would think she was taking a defensive stance when she came here for anything but another row.

The two didn't speak any words for a full minute; alternatively, the pair basked in the silence surrounding them, as if it was rays of sunshine on a cold day in winter.

Hermione then looked over at Charlie, who kept his blue gaze ahead of him, though she could tell he knew her eyes were upon him.

"Charlie," she quietly breathed out, before she stopped and looked away, not knowing what exactly to say to him. In their argument before, both had been callous, lost in the heat of the moment, each hurling a rocket at the other, though at the time they didn't realize that they shared the same yard.

Swallowing her own sense of pride, she started again, "Charlie, I'm sorry." After a slight pause, she continued on, "What I told you was terrible and I shouldn't have said it."

"Did you mean it," he abruptly asked, still not meeting her eyes. "Did you mean what you said…about us waiting to find out if we had what the other desired before dating?"

Hermione took in several breaths until she responded, "No, I didn't mean anything I said. I was just hurt over your comments about me playing the role of a hero and being impatient because it's true."

With this, Charlie looked over at her, emotional pain evident in his eyes.

"I'm not perfect even though I strive to be. My biggest fear is failure. Back in third year, my boggart was Professor McGonagall telling me that I failed everything. Of course, at that time, it just meant my exams but now, it's different. I've been friends with Harry and Ron too long to know that I have a tendency to nag others, especially them when they would choose Quidditch over doing their homework, and I am very impatient, mainly having to do with things that make no logical sense. I feel that everything happens for a reason and that reason is there for us to see."

"Hermione-," Charlie began before she gently cut him off.

"Hang on a minute, I'm not finished. And playing the role of a hero…I'm guilty of that too. Even though I don't like the term, I feel like that word is kind of assumed of us, 'us' being those who are friends of Harry. He doesn't like it either, I know he doesn't, but everyone else is kind of grouped together with him, not by the Ministry of Magic or the Daily Prophet, but by the public. It's how they see us – they take for granted that we're all 'heroes,' with Harry being the main one. With all of these questions and strange happens back in Romanian and now here in Wales, I guess I kind of fell back into trying to figure everything out, attempting to make logical sense of all of it, and becoming frustrated when nothing was solved. What you said about me was true, Charlie."

"I regret what I said to you and if I could take it back, I would do it without a second thought. Yes, those things might be true of you but I could see the pain I caused and I saw how hurt you were…I felt…sick, like I wanted to hurl."

"Charlie," Hermione started, small tears beginning to form, "sometimes we need to hear the truth about ourselves. If not, we would just keep going on, being highly ignorant of who we think we are against who we actually are. This isn't your fault."

"Okay," he said, briefly nodding his head, "I could go with that, but I didn't do so in a nice way. I did it in a way that would cause you pain because I was so angry with the fact that you wouldn't take one night to forget all of these things that are going on. Hermione," he went on, as the two stared at one another, their faces contorted unto how they actually felt at that moment, "you're special to me and I just can't stand to see you struggling…with anything. You deserve the absolute best and I want the time you and I spend together to be that way. I want you in more ways than I can count but saying what I said to you last night…I felt like I royally screwed everything up between us."

"You didn't screw anything up between us, Charlie," Hermione informed him, placing one hand on his bulky bicep. "We both said things that we regret but we can move on from this – I want to move on from this. I liked how we were before, talking to each other in the mornings before work, cooking dinner together after; having late-night conversations about favorite memories from when we were little and even having good-spirited debates over S.P.E.W."

Charlie continued to look over at Hermione, as if he was carefully regarding her.

Cocking his head to one side, he questioned, "Are you sure you've never been in a relationship before?"

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged his shoulders, explaining, "The first time I was in a relationship was back at Hogwarts, during my fifth year, a Hufflepuff named Heather Remeary, I think. The first fight we had…I thought it was over between us. I only learned after that that not all quarrels signify an end but a new, fresh start. Even though you've never been in a full-fledged relationship before, you seem to understand that…something it took me weeks to."

"I just hate not saying 'Good morning' to you and talking before work or even walking towards the Center of Directions together. I felt lonely, I guess," she confessed.

"I didn't like it either," Charlie agreed, taking Hermione's hand off of his bicep as he intertwined his fingers with hers, before resting it in his lap. "I'm sorry, Hermione, I really am. You mean so much to me, more than I ever initially anticipated, that hurting you was my biggest mistake."

After several beats went by, Hermione relayed, "Charlie, can I ask you something?"

He looked over at her, replying, "Anything."

"What did you think of me the first time we talked with each other?"

Charlie quirked up a brow at her (a clear sign that he was regaining his old self) inquiring, "The very first time…right before the Quidditch World Cup?"

"No, I mean the night over the summer, when we had our first real conversation."

"Oh, that time. Um, well I was surprised that I found I genuinely liked talking to you. At the time, I hadn't remember much of when we first met but I realized you grew up, a lot, so much that I barely even recognized you when I came back right before the battle. But to be honest, I didn't think anything long-term. If someone would've told me that a month and a half later, I would be apologizing to Hermione Granger after we had our first relationship spat, I would've told that person he or she was off his or her own broomstick. And yet…here we are."

After Hermione nodded, she then questioned, "When did you find out that you liked me? More than just being friends?"

Charlie inhaled deeply, his eyes wandering up to the plain ceiling of the Wales Dragon Reserve's hospital.

"Well I guess I first started liking you, more than a friend, was the day we went to the Ministry together. Remember that? I had a meeting with Mr. McGill and you had a meeting with Minister Shacklebolt."

"Really, it was then?"

"It was when I first realized it at least. I remember getting out of the lift that day, leaving you. I then asked myself how much I would give up to still be there with you, going to visit Minister Shacklebolt together. To put it more simply, that was when I first understood that I hated being apart from you. It drove me insane. When I was with Mr. McGill, I barely paid him any attention because all I could think about was you. What you were doing, what you were saying, what you and Shacklebolt were talking about…I was going mental. But at that time, I didn't know if you reciprocated my feelings so I stayed back at bit, thinking of dropping hints to you, hoping you would pick everything up."

"Did I 'pick everything up'?"

"In a way," he said after a moment with a light smile, "unintentionally though. You took the bait I hadn't even realized I offered."

Hermione looked over at him, puzzled.

"I don't follow."

"It was the night we all had dinner outside the Burrow, celebrating our new positions along with Harry and Ron's auror training. After we finished eating, I told you about going on the date mum set me up on, the one with Desmiralda. I saw your reaction and I knew you liked me, however small it was at that time."

Hermione actually laughed, if ever this was a strange time to do so be damned, for she couldn't help herself.

As she continued to giggle away, Charlie gave her a crazed looked, asking, "Are you alright?"

"Sorry," she retained, though her shoulders were still shaking with hilarity, "I just…I don't even know why I'm laughing."

"I don't either unless you find something funny that I'm missing."

Hermione shook her head from side to side, her cheeks still flushed from her sudden and unexpected mirth, as she told him, "I just remember being really jealous of her."

"So you did like me, then?"

"Yes, but I didn't realize how much I liked you then myself."

"When did you recognize the fact that you liked me?"

Hermione pondered this for a long moment, thinking of when she did come to terms with herself that she actually liked Charlie Weasley.

"Garden Aplenty," Hermione then answered, making Charlie visibly brighten. "That was the first time…back in Romania."

"Really?"

"You sound surprised."

"I am."

"Why?"

He shrugged his shoulders soundlessly, having no response.

"There were two things that alerted me: the first was that you told me that you wanted to take me out before but you didn't because of your family. Second, everything about that dinner, meeting Wormey and talking, it just felt so natural. Nothing about it was forced. I found you intriguing and very handsome and that was it."

Charlie unlocked their fingers as he instead draped his arm over Hermione's shoulders, pulling her against him, planting a soft kiss against her forehead, another on her nose, and the last on her lips.

"Can I be totally honest with you? One-hundred percent raw?"

Hermione nodded.

Charlie swallowed, looking deep into her eyes. For her part, Hermione felt paralyzed in his gaze, as something within it alerted her that he was going to reveal something he never had before.

"Hermione," he began, licking his lips, "I think that I-,"

However, before he could go on, a voice from behind him said, "Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger," making them jump, as neither one of them had even heard the door to Charlie's room open.

They both turned in unison to see Director Mulligan framed in the doorway, his hands clasped behind his back, while time seemed to have finally caught up with his age.

"Director Mulligan," they both returned at the same time, as they got to their feet.

He stepped into the room, his boots clanging over the tiled floors.

"I gather the two of you are okay then?"

"Yes," Charlie answered, looking over at Hermione who nodded at him, "we're both fine."

"Good, that's good."

"How's Terrance?"

"Fine, actually, given the fact that he was bitten by a snake. Mr. Wriley is awake, and I wish to discuss with you all what happened, the events that took place before, during, and after finding the Victorian Shaler. Care to accompany over to Mr. Wriley's room?"

"Not at all," Charlie again answered, as they then followed him down the hall, turning right, where they all walked into an already-open door between two others that were closed. Coming inside, Hermione noted that this room was identical to that of her and Charlie's.

"Charlie, Hermione," Terrance exclaimed with a bright smile, as Mulligan closed the door behind them. "Good to see you two lovebirds up and about!"

"And it's too bad you aren't," Charlie flashed back, ignoring his 'lovebirds' comment.

"Take a look at this," Terrance remarked, as he swung a blanket he had atop of him, pointing downward.

Hermione gasped when she saw that his ankle had ballooned to thrice its normal size, turning an ugly shade of puce mixed with a bright yellow, as two vicious bite marks were engraved on its side.

"That's bloody disgusting," Charlie commented.

"Terrance, are you alright," Hermione asked.

"Fine, I'm fine," he responded, waving one of his hands in the air. "The swelling was worse before and now, I don't even feel it. Don't worry about me, Hermione."

"Take a seat you two," Mulligan then ordered, waving his wand and making two comfortable-looking chairs appear beside Terrance's bed, "we've got some things to discuss. No doubt you have your own questions but I have mine as well. Since I am sure most of your questions pertain to the events before you three searched the Brazilian Bastions pen first, ask me whatever you wish, for the sake of going in order."

Mulligan remained standing, his mouth set in a firm line as if it was stuck there for the remainder of his life, while his hands were clasped behind him with his eyes roaming over the trio before him.

However, before anyone could begin, Terrance's hospital room door banged open, admitting Sprought inside, an ugly sneer plastered over his face.

"I'm telling you, sir, that you are not to both with my patients!" Hermione recognized the voice of Henry Aldall as he then came into the room after Sprought, looking ruffled and irritated.

"Henry, it's okay. Sprought…what on earth are you doing here," Mulligan spat out while Aldall glared at Sprought's back before leaving.

"Forgive me, Mulligan, but part of my job is to oversee that this new dragon reserve is operating in a safe and productive way. Yet, we have three of your workers admitted in this hospital with wounds of their own, one severe," nodding over to Terrance impassively, "while two others were found debilitated mere hours before. I must say that yet again I'm quite disappointed in how you conduct the operations here, Mulligan, very disappointed indeed. I am sure Minister Shacklebolt will find my reports informative, to say the least."

"Yes, well, I'm sure, Sprought, that Minister Shacklebolt will be reconsidering whom he appoints as Undersecretary given your dry-sense of nonsensical logic," Mulligan retorted.

"It's _Senior_ Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic," Sprought corrected with an air of haughtiness. "Wouldn't want to confuse my title now, would we?"

"Sprought, whether it's Senior Undersecretary or just Undersecretary, I find you nothing more than a daft bellend with questionable morals and an over-large nose, sticking it in places where it doesn't belong."

Sprought glared over at Mulligan, before he said, "Insults is all you know, is that right?"

"I'm just playing the part, Sprought, at least it's in accordance with what you said to Minister Shacklebolt and Mr. McGill. If I remember correctly, it was something along the lines of 'all dragon handlers are a bunch of lazy sods.'"

Sprought laughed once, thought it was dry, as he started, "Listen here, Mulligan, I'm a busy man-,"

"Then what on earth are you here for," Mulligan fired back. "Surely you have better things to occupy your time with than degrade yourself with people like us, haven't you?"

"Mulligan, I am the Senior Undersecretary-,"

"Anyway," Mulligan inserted, effectively cutting Sprought off (who looked highly affronted because of it) and turning away from him, "let's get the questions going."

Charlie spoke first.

"Do you know how the Victorian Shaler escaped? Your message wasn't exactly clear and I'm just confused by the whole thing."

Mulligan nodded his head in understanding, answering, "Reyville and Cope were training the two newborns. From what they told me, one of the Shalers started flapping its wings repeatedly before they blacked out. When they came to, they found me hovering over them, having already caged one of the Shalers while the other escaped. Not much of an explanation, I know, but so far, that's the best we got."

"Do you know why the baby Shaler didn't show up on the map of the encampment back in the Center of Directions," Terrance voiced next.

"No, that's something that's rather peculiar and unsettling."

"Is it possible that the map doesn't detect newborns," Hermione inquired.

"That's not possible," Terrance replied to her before Mulligan could. "The map is binding to the dragons that are and are birthed on the reserve. It's a sort of magical contract; it can't be fooled."

"Mr. Wriley is correct, Miss Granger. The map was approved by the Minister of Magic itself," Mulligan clarified, as Sprought squared his shoulders and titled his head upward at this, giving off an aroma of upmost importance.

"But this is impossible," Charlie countered. "The map shows the dragon enclosures all the time, whether they're fully-grown or newborns. The Victorian Shaler not showing up…that's just insane."

"I know it is, Mr. Weasley," Mulligan sighed, now rubbing his temples as if trying to clear away a major migraine that had just supplanted itself within him, "but right now, there is no explanation of it."

"If I may," Sprought started, holding his index finger up in the air.

"No you may not," Mulligan cut over once again, not even bothering to look over at him, making the Senior Undersecretary huff in indignation. "Now do you have any more questions for me before I ask some of my own?"

Hermione, Charlie, and Terrance all shook their heads from side to side. While Hermione didn't have a question to ask, she did have a theory about the Victorian Shaler, yet she decided to hold it in for the time being as she didn't like the idea of Sprought being present to hear it and she had a thought that Mulligan might be headed down the same track to reach the same conclusion that she had already achieved.

"Well then, I would like one of you three to tell me what happened in the Brazilian Bastions pen."

"I can do that," Hermione offered, tucking a stray curl behind her ear as Mulligan's eyes turned on her. "Charlie, Terrance, and I searched the floor of the Brazilian Bastions pen, under the cover of the trees. We were attacked by a jaguar, which was right before the broom Charlie and I were on collided with Terrance's, knocking him off of his which is when he got bit by the snake."

"You didn't think of turning back when Mr. Wriley was bitten by a snake, one, judging by the size of his injury, was poisonous," Sprought intervened rather rudely.

Before Hermione could reply, Charlie retorted in a slightly hostile manner, "We wanted to take him back but Terrance insisted we keep going instead. He thought we were close to finding the Victorian Shaler."

A sour expression crossed over Sprought's features at Charlie's words, making his already-bone face look skeletal, as he murmured darkly, "How…heroic."

"Continue on, if you please, Miss Granger," Mulligan said, ignoring Sprought's latest jab.

"Well, we found the newborn Shaler in a clearing that was made of a waterfall and a river. One of the Brazilian Bastions appeared to be knocked out, as it was lying in the water, while the other was staring over at the Victorian Shaler," Hermione continued.

"Staring at it," Mulligan queried. "Was the Shaler doing anything out of the ordinary?"

"Yes," Hermione answered. "It was odd in a way: the dragon was flapping its wings, making the circular pattern of its wings rotate while its body seemed to be glistening. Director Mulligan, I think-,"

"Glistening," Sprought interrupted yet again, scoffing in his own wake, making Charlie glare over at him, the base of his neck turning a deep shade of red, hinting at his rising temper. "What on earth do you mean by that?"

Hermione, however, remain unfazed, as she ignored him and directed over at Mulligan, "I think it was hypnotizing the Brazilian Bastions."

Terrance's hospital room fell into a deep silence, as Charlie, Terrance, and Sprought stared at Hermione, though Sprought's was more of a glare considering she blatantly avoided his previous question to her, while Mulligan shared her a look of understanding.

"I think you may be on to something there, Miss Granger."

At this, Sprought loudly snorted, supplying, "Oh, really, a hypnotizing dragon? Please try to not insult my intelligence, girl."

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw that Charlie's hands had balled into fists, the deep red slowly rising up the column of his neck, while a look of loathing was glued onto his face.

Silently and discreetly, Hermione grabbed one of his hands in her own and squeezed it; a second later, Charlie repeated her affection which went unnoticed by the room's occupants.

"What is so hard to understand about that, Sprought," Mulligan questioned, turning to face him.

"Wha-wha-are you, do you actually believe this girl," Sprought stuttered, as if he couldn't believe his own ears of what the director of the Wales Dragon Reserve was suggesting. "What an outrageous claim to make!"

"You call it outrageous, I call it sensible," Mulligan replied. "Strange matters are possible in this realm of a magical creature hypnosis. There is one thing that Reyville, Cope, and one of the fully-grown Brazilian Bastions have in common with one another regarding the Victorian Shaler: they all fell unconscious, namely when the newborn started flapping its wings. I'm sure you've seen the design on it, Sprought, with all of your gawking you do at the poor little beasts, haven't you?"

"Of course I've seen it but I believe that it's merely a design and nothing else," he shouted back quickly, not taking a single breath.

"Spare us your hysterics, Sprought, we're trying to put this together logically."

"You call a hypnotizing dragon logical? What a ridiculous claim to make! I have heard of no such thing!"

"Tell me, Sprought, how many years have you studied dragons?"

Hermione looked over at Sprought to see him seething, his face a beat red (darker than what had been creeping up Charlie's neck before), his shoulders moving up and down in an unsystematic rhythm. He looked as if he was going to draw his wand at any second as he continued to look over at Mulligan, lines of hatred aging him years ahead of how old he truly was. By way of Charlie, Hermione knew there was a lot of bad blood between the two men, stemming deeper down that soft cuts and bruises; it was personal issues that pitted them against one another, neither one willing to budge in the other's favor.

"I can report you, Mulligan, let us not forget that," Sprought whispered, though his words carried around Terrance's entire room with the lack of speech made by the trio.

"Report me of what, Sprought?"

"Report you of how you're handling this reserve. You know that the Ministry can shut it down with a snap of its fingers? Easy and done!"

Mulligan stepped back and laughed, saying, "You won't do that. I know that and so do you."

"Really? What makes you so sure?"

"Because I've seen the way you've looked at the Victorian Shalers, unblinking, comatose-like stares. If I didn't know any better, I would say that you were…ah, what's the word…hypnotized by it."

If looks could kill, Mulligan would surely be wandering about in the afterlife by now, for murder was in Sprought's eyes. Without uttering another word, Sprought departed from Terrance's room, his wizards' robe billowing behind in his wake.

"What a fool," Mulligan commented, softly shaking his head from left to right. Turning around to face the silent yet rather stunned hospital trio, he said, "Miss Granger, hold onto that idea of the Victorian Shalers. Now, before I leave, I have two other matters to discuss with you. First, with Sprought hanging over the reserve, I've extended my stay here for another week. I'm going back to check in on the encampment in Romania tonight but I'll be back before dawn's first light. Second, the Auror department has officially launched an investigation into your skirmish back in Woan, a week late if I might add, though what can we truly say about it? Do you have any further questions?"

"I do," Terrance said, "sir," he added quickly. "What exactly does the Auror department expect to find in their investigation? We all know it was dragon poachers that attacked us, stole three dragon eggs, and left. What more is there to look at?"

"From what Mr. McGill tells me, they hope to find out where the poachers went off to. Of course, that's a bunch of rubbish really as there's no way to track down the men that went after you all."

"And what about the house in the woods, sir," Charlie requested.

"That matter is largely undetermined. I've stationed two of our own handlers to keep watch over it around the clock, so if anyone happens to pop in, we'll know. However, it still remains a rather mammoth mystery, nothing more and nothing less for the time being."

After a moment of silence, Hermione proposed, "So what happens now with the Victorian Shalers?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary except to have more workers on hand when it's being trained. I don't care how much Sprought thinks we're falsifying this little tale on those newborns, there's something that's definitely out of the ordinary with them. The faster we get them into its own pen, the better."

Charlie and Hermione exchanged uncomfortable glances, the odd circumstances surrounding what happened back in Romania and what has happened in Wales adding up, their problems being more and not less.

"Take after yourselves," Mulligan said, inclining his bald head towards them before giving them a smile, however small it was, before leaving.

Unbeknownst to Hermione, Charlie, and Terrance, that would be the final time they would ever speak with the director.

* * *

Later that night, Hermione agreeing with Charlie that they should take several hours away from the reserve to clear their heads, the pair was strolling along the wide bridge towards Fauella. She was looking in front of her, towards the mass that was called Shadowground, admiring its green and white tiled dome that sat over a dark red, symmetrical façade. It was just as impressive as it was the first time she laid eyes on it. Her gaze then skirted to the sides of the impressive building, seeing smaller wizarding shops that flanked it, all situated in a long row, as the slab of rock they all sat upon was rather narrow, giving way to Cardigan Bay behind it.

The sky overhead hadn't quite yet turned to black, yet that didn't stop the beginnings of the sea of stars glimmering above small, gray clouds that meandered along the sky. Hermione saw the final rays of the sun set, it trying to peek over Shadowground, yet having no such luck.

"You okay, Hermione," Charlie asked, squeezing her hand that was clasped in his and looking over at her.

"I'm fine," she nodded, "just looking at the view."

"It's certainly impressive," he conceded quietly with notes of affection.

"I'm also thinking," she commented.

She felt Charlie's eyes trained on her before he asked, "Hopefully you're taking a break from thinking about all of our problems back on the reserve. I mean, that's one of the reasons why we're here in Fauella."

"Oh, it has nothing to do with that," she remarked, as out of the corner of her eye she saw Charlie visibly relax.

"Okay, I'll bite, what's on your mind?"

"Well, I think you're hair is getting too long."

At this, Charlie stopped walking, steering her towards him.

"My hair is what you're thinking about?"

"Is that hard to believe?"

"No, it's just kind of odd…in a way," he pondered, mulling over the fact if it was in fact strange or not. "And I don't think it's that long." At his statement, Charlie ran his free hand over his fiery red hair, trying to dispel Hermione's thoughts over it.

"It's longer than it was before," she said.

"Why does my hair length bother you?"

"It doesn't particularly bother me, I just think you look very handsome with shorter hair," she replied sincerely, "kind of like how it was at the Hogwarts' Banquet."

"Yeah, I guess," he relayed, "shorter hair is easier to go about in the morning."

"Your hair isn't that long," Hermione continued, "it's just slightly longer than before."

"My mum always said that my hair did grown rather slowly, at least compared to Bill's."

The pair had resumed their walking again, as Hermione questioned, "Have you heard back from him yet? Bill, I mean."

"No but Bill's kind of slow with his responses. Maybe he's too busy being a family man."

"You say that as if it's a bad thing."

"Oh, not at all. In fact, I think that was the best route for him to take!"

"And how about yourself," Hermione asked next.

"Are you trying to hint at something, Hermione?"

"I don't know, am I?"

"You tell me."

Hermione scoffed with good humor, saying, "Well, whatever I may or may not be hinting at, I think that's a long way away."

"It doesn't have to be too long," Charlie remarked.

"What?"

"Uh," Charlie faltered, realizing his hiccup too late, "well what I meant was that, well some people, after they're married, wait years to have kids. Nothing wrong with not waiting years to have 'em is all I was saying."

Hermione noticed that Charlie's face burned a bright red, but she didn't belabor the point any further.

After making their way across the overpass, Charlie led Hermione to their left as they crossed before Shadowground and made their way past it, Charlie commenting that they should find a spot to have some dinner.

Stopping in front of a rather busy restaurant named _Raven's Plates_ , a voice nearby sounded off, "Char! 'Mione!"

Knowing who it was before they faced him, Phillip came running up to them, waving his hand, a large smile plastered on his face.

"Phillip," Hermione exclaimed in surprise having not seen him all day, "how are you?"

"How am I? How are ya two? Heard about ya guys and Terry goin' into the Brazilian Bastions pen! Is Terry okay?"

"Yeah, but he has a pretty nasty ankle swell from a snake bite," Charlie answered.

"Those ruddy snakes are quite dangerous if I do say so myself," he nodded. "Anyway, what are ya two up ta?"

"We were thinking about going in here," Hermione returned, pointing to _Raven's Plates_ , "and getting a bite to eat."

"Oh, yeah, I heard this place was good."

Hermione quickly looked at Charlie before she asked, "Do you care to join us?"

For his part, Charlie didn't seem at all annoyed at Hermione's question, which she was glad.

"Oh no, no, no! Ya two deserve a nigh' on yar own!"

"Phillip, we don't mind, you're a friend," Charlie said, sounding mildly surprised.

"Ya sure?"

"Don't be silly, of course we are," Hermione stated, as she grabbed Phillip's other arm and twirled him around to walk into the restaurant.

Entering inside, a chorus of loud voices reached their ears, as Hermione noticed that _Raven's Plates_ seemed to be a popular food attraction; nearly every table was full. She continued to look around, taking in the off-yellow walls with hints of brown smeared with it while every table had a single candle resting in its middle.

"I guess we seat ourselves then," Charlie surmised, leading Hermione by the hand over to an empty booth with Phillip following.

After taking their places (Charlie and Hermione one side with Phillip across from them), menus appeared as they then looked over what would appeal most to their appetites.

Phillip found out that by saying the name of a particular item made it suddenly appear before them. Unfortunately for him, the dish's name he had said was meant to inform Charlie and Hermione that he was allergic to half of the ingredients involved; however, it seemed that once you uttered a plate's name, you were stuck with it.

Charlie then asked Phillip what he really wanted and Phillip pointed it out. The second-oldest Weasley spoke the dish's name and then traded with Phillip, surprising yet also pleasing Hermione greatly.

As they continued to dig into their foods, many different conversations flowing around them, Phillip suddenly asked, "So 'Mione, how's life on the reserve treating ya so far?"

Swallowing a bite of lamb, she said, "Oh, it's great actually. It's much different than Romania."

"Ya can say tha' again! I think havin' a smaller number o' dragons is better though, wouldn'ya say Char?"

"Yep, I actually told Hermione that same thing after we arrived. Having dragons in their natural habitats is better for them."

"But what happens when more dragons come in," Hermione threw in. "Wouldn't the reserve have to be like that in Romania? Or can the individual dragon enclosures be charmed to add as many pens as possible?"

"Well, right now, the belief is that we can up to twenty different enclosures in one circle," Charlie clarified. "But we can also add another circle nearby. It's the third one that's the problem."

"Really…why?"

"It's been theorized that the magic comprising two separate circles is able to hold yet with the addition of a third, the charms placed upon the individual pens will break, compromising all of the different environments and mixing them together while the dragons will be able to roam about wherever they please. It would not a pretty sight."

"Think abou' it like this, 'Mione: ya have two separate orchestras with two differen' conductors. For the most part, the two sides could work in harmony with the conductors agreeing upon a set piece they could all play. But, with the addition of a thir' orchestra with its own conductor, there would be no agreement with three differen' opinions. If the three separate orchestras played against each other, mos' likely, an awful sound would be the result. Don't ya agree?"

Hermione regarded Phillip as he looked over at her; his brown hair, a shade longer than Charlie's, was somewhat messy while he sported a burn on his neck she hadn't seen before.

"Well I guess that makes sense," she said, nodding in agreement with him, making him flash her a wide smile.

"By the way, ya two hear about the event goin' on at Shadowground," Phillip then directed, abruptly changing the course of their conversation.

"Event…what event," Charlie asked.

"I dunno, I thought ya did which is why I asked," he replied. "I heard Terry talk about it yesterday."

"Did you ask Terrance about it," Charlie requested.

"Yeah but he jus' told me to min' my own business."

"Well that certainly sounds like Terrance," Charlie muttered quietly, though Hermione caught his words.

"You said this event was happening in Shadowground," Hermione relayed, seeing if she heard right, to which Phillip nodded his head wordlessly.

"This event, or whatever it is, is news to us," Charlie said with a frown. "Did you catch when this is supposed to take place?"

"Sunday night," Phillip answered.

"The night," Charlie repeated, his browns hunched lower that what was the norm. "Shadowground closes at six…everyone knows that. It's an official government building."

Phillip merely shrugged his shoulders in response, not knowing what to say to that.

Hermione herself, though not as familiar with the wizarding community situated in Wales and Shadowground itself, thought an 'event' taking place on a Sunday night in an official government building was rather off. Also, Terrance knowing of this while Charlie didn't made it somewhat more unsettling. She inwardly sighed and leaned against Charlie (who wrapped an arm around her shoulders, making her snuggle against his side) as this was yet another addition should have make note of to her growing list of names and places.

"Ya okay, 'Mione?"

Hermione showed off a small smile, saying, "Yeah, I just have a lot on my mind."

Phillip nodded though without any trace of a smile. His face darkened a little as he cast his eyes downward onto his empty plate while his elbows rested on the tabletop. He rocked his head back and forth in a lazy manner yet to Hermione, it seemed as if he was having an internal battle against his own self. She pulled out of Charlie's grasp and he willing let her go as he too seemed to take on Phillip's sudden odd turnaround.

"Phillip, are you okay," Hermione asked.

He let out a long breath before he lifted his eyes to meet theirs, darting back and forth between them.

"I-I haven' been totally honest with ya two…or really, with anyone," he finally relented.

Hermione and Charlie traded troubled looks with each other, wondering what he was getting at.

"What do you mean," Charlie said.

"I remember more…more about Wormey…more about the house in the woods...I just didn't wan' to say anything 'fore I had some facts lined up."

Hermione's heart was bounding against her insides, wondering what Phillip had unearthed to make him reveal these things to her and Charlie. She however remained calm, thinking it was best to do so or else she might scare Phillip off into not telling them what he seemed to be on the verge of.

Pushing aside his empty plate, Phillip breathed out, "I think Director Mulligan is behind everything."


	23. Galaxies in a Sun

A/N: Hello all! For those interested, not including this chapter, there are four more chapters left in "Nocturnal," as I plan to have 27 in total. Thanks for all of the reviews, favorites, and follows!

* * *

Chapter 23: Galaxies in a Sun

Warning: This chapter contains material meant for mature readers.

Hermione and Charlie stared over at Phillip, completely dumbfounded by his admission. While a multitude of conversations continued to flow around her, Hermione couldn't formulate the words necessary to speak.

'Director Mulligan…behind it all,' she asked herself internally, racking her brain just to process the statement as fact.

Phillip's face remained as still as stone, looking both troubled and confused while his breathing kept at an even pace. On the other hand, Charlie had his mouth hanging open while his eyes were as wide as saucers.

If it was true that Director Mulligan was behind the poacher infiltration that occurred back in Romania aided with the occurrence of the house in the woods, in addition to the pretense of the Victorian Shalers, that would be, for him, a major cover to blow.

"Phillip," Charlie started, he regaining his sense of speech before she, "a-are you sure about this? I mean, we're talking about Director Mulligan, someone that we've both known for many years now."

"Char, ya know as well as I tha' this poacher situation has been goin' on for a long time."

"I-I just can't see it," Charlie stated, shaking his head softly from side to side.

"Phillip," Hermione chirped in, making both he and Charlie look at her, "do you have any factual evidence that Director Mulligan is behind everything?"

He swallowed before he answered, "I don' have factual evidence, but I have theories."

Hermione looked over at Charlie, who, in turn, was looking over at Phillip as if he done a total turnabout, changing Charlie's perceptions of who he thought he once knew.

"What are they," Hermione issued out, urging him on to see what Phillip had unearthed.

"Well, first things first: don' ya two think tha' Director Mulligan was conveniently absent whe' the poachers came onto the reserve?"

"Yes but I don't know if I'd call that convenient; he was over in Canada, observing the Victorian Shalers in their natural habitat," Charlie admonished.

"A dragon species tha' has just been discovered? To me, tha' just seems like suitable timing. I mean, it was said before tha' most, if not all of the dragon species on earth had been discovered," Phillip reasoned, looking over at Charlie with a blazing stare, "and then, suddenly, one jus' happens to pop up, Mulligan leaves, and then _bam!_ we're all attacked by dragon poachers?"

"The timing is off, I'll give you that, but there was always a chance that more dragon species could be discovered, just like that of the Victorian Shaler," Charlie replied. "I don't think Director Mulligan's absence from the reserve can be vouched for unless we give him several drops of Veritaserum."

"Maybe not, but I still find it a little funny. Anyway, the second thing is tha' Director Mulligan seems to have a strange obsession with the house in the woods."

"What do you mean by 'obsession'," Hermione asked, interested by this second theory.

"I don't know if ya know him, 'Mione, but remember Harris, Char?"

"Of course I do," Charlie responded.

"Well, me an' him keep up with the other as he's still workin' on the Romanian Dragon Reserve, and he told me tha' when Director Mulligan stops by the reserve, all he does is spend the entire time he's there in tha' house in the woods; doesn' talk to nobody else, doesn' help out with the dragons, doesn' even stop by his flat or the Center of Directions," Phillip said.

"How does Harris know about that though," Charlie inquired.

"I don't know if ya know this either but the director has stationed two handlers to guard the house all the time. Harris has kept watch over it multiple times now," Phillip replied.

Hearing his words, Hermione did indeed remember that Mulligan had informed she, Charlie, and Terrance earlier that day in the hospital that he placed two dragon handlers to look over the house at all times of the day and night, it kept under heavy surveillance just in case the house in the woods was a checkpoint for poachers to penetrate the reserve.

"Well to be fair, the house is a bit odd," Hermione stated, looking over at Charlie before she returned her eyes across the table to Phillip.

"I agree but to lock yaself in it for hours at a time," Phillip challenged, shrugging his shoulders.

"It's a fair point to consider," Charlie chimed in, "though I find it hard to think about Mulligan doing that. It just seems out of character for him."

"Tha's what I thought too bu' why would Harris lie about somethin' like tha'?"

"He wouldn't…knowing Harris," Charlie answered solemnly, looking truly disheartened about the way this conversation was turning out.

"And the third thing was tha' Wormey has spoken about Mulligan before."

"Wormey," Hermione queried, thinking of how this was the second time Phillip had brought up Wormey, with the first was when he mentioned that Wormey knew Sprought. "What did Wormey say about him?"

"Sprought knew the family Wormey worked for and they had many discussions abou' Mulligan," Phillip supplied.

"But that could be over a number of different things," Charlie said.

"Hang on, let me finish," Phillip continued, his voice suddenly turning grave. "Wormey told me tha' Sprought and the family Wormey worked for talked abou' putting Director Mulligan under the Imperius Curse."

The silence was deafening as for the second time in the span of several minutes, as both Hermione and Charlie stared over at Phillip with speechless expressions. While nothing Phillip presented was based on hard cold facts, there was a thin line of logic interwoven within his argument; it danced between the perils of what Hermione wanted to believe in and what was staring her directly in the face.

"So," Charlie began slowly, as if he was trying to put everything together into one solvable equation, "there could be a possibility that Director Mulligan is under the Imperius Curse?"

"No," Phillip clarified, "Wormey said tha' in the end, Sprought decided it wouldn't be needed."

"Wouldn't be needed," Charlie repeated, his brows tugging towards one another. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know," Phillip returned, "Wormey wouldn't say anythin' more."

Hermione fell silent, mulling everything Phillip had told her and Charlie in her head. Her eyes darted around the restaurant while she was thinking, stopping over at a family of three: a father, mother, and their young, light-brown haired son, who was babbling incoherently, adding to the still rather boisterous dinner crowd.

'Director Mulligan was absent during the poacher infiltration…most likely a coincidence,' Hermione thought. 'His infatuation of the house in the woods is rather strange if what Phillip said was true, that he sat in it for hours at a time. But, Wormey informing Phillip that his past family and Sprought conformed together and discussed the option of placing Mulligan under the Imperius Curse…that is strange.'

"Why would they even consider placing him under the Imperius Curse," Hermione asked aloud, diverting the attention of their table back on her. "There would have to be a specific reason for that."

"Are you thinking of something, Hermione," Charlie questioned, with a brow quirked upwards.

"Nothing specific," she let out, "but in order to figure everything out, there is something we need to do."

"What," both Charlie and Phillip sang in unison.

"Well the only logical thing to do is to go back to Romania and ask Wormey which family he served. From what Phillip has told us before and just now, many things can be traced back to him."

When a hush greeted her, Hermione first looked over at Phillip who had an uneasy look upon his face; she next turned to Charlie who seemed to be considering this possibility.

"It's the only way we'll figure everything out," Hermione announced, feeling more determined by the passing second. Ever since she had jotted down certain names and places on the piece of parchment she kept on her desk in her bedroom back on the reserve, Hermione always felt as if one integral piece was missing that brought everything together…a piece that would make sense of everything that has happened thus far, dating back to the events that took place over in Romania. Without a shadow of doubt, Hermione zeroed in on knowing who Wormey's family was, as that was the key to unlocking a trove of mysteries she carried within her.

"You do make a fair argument," Charlie remarked, sighing loudly. "I think we should consider it. But I also think we should consider checking out what event is taking place this Sunday night in Shadowground. That potentially could give us some answers we're looking for as well."

"But what if the event turns out to be nothing," Phillip voiced.

"Then there's no harm and no foul," Charlie said simply with a small shrug of his shoulders.

"But what if there is something about the event," Hermione put in next.

"I guess that depends on what type of meeting this is," Charlie responded looking over at her. "Obviously I don't know much about it, but I don't have a good feeling over it. And the fact that Terrance supposedly knows about it makes this all the bit stranger. Phillip, have you heard anyone else talk about it?"

Phillip thought this over for a long moment, his mouth moving with no sound emitting from it, as he ran through the list of dragon handlers in his head.

"I remember Roy an' Cope briefly mentioning it to one another in passing, but besides them and Terry, no one. Ya think Director Mulligan knows?"

"With what you told us, it's possible," Charlie sighed, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands, "but it's not as if we can go up and ask him, can we?"

Suddenly, a loud shattering noise was heard making Hermione, Charlie, and Phillip look towards the source of the noise. Hermione saw that the light-brown haired baby, with the mother and father she had seen earlier, had managed to shove a glass plate off of the table where it splintered into hundreds of pieces like the hurried scattering of mice. The mother, red-faced at the attraction she and her small family were now receiving, waved her wand, instantly repairing the plate, while apologizing to her nearby neighbors, as they threw her scandalous looks.

"Well, just so ya know Char, I don't have a good feeling abou' Shadowground either," Phillip mentioned, as the noise level in _Raven's Plates_ returned back to its normal level after the dish-breaking incident hushed its inhabitants. "By the way, how're we goin' to go there?"

Charlie shot him a confused look, asking, "What do you mean by that?"

"It seems like select people know o' this event an' the three of us didn' receive an invite. We can' just show up as ourselves, can we?"

As Charlie thought this over, Hermione was about to answer with 'Polyjuice Potion' only then to remember that it takes one month to brew. However, a different idea then popped into her head.

"We could use human transfiguration," she equipped.

Phillip considered this before he nodded his head in agreement.

"Yeah, tha' would do the trick!"

"Well it seems like we have our answer for that," Charlie said, shooting Hermione a wide, electric smile. "So then this Sunday night, how about Phillip, you come over to our place and we'll go to Shadowground together?"

"I can do tha'," he stated.

"I think the best thing that we can do is find out what the event is all about and get back to the reserve as soon as possible. While there, we can see if Terrance really does show up along with Director Mulligan, Roy, and Cope," Charlie directed.

"Charlie, do you really think that this meeting is bad," Hermione questioned, as she couldn't equate either Terrance or Director Mulligan to sinister matters.

"Honestly, I dunno, but I do have an uncomfortable feeling about the whole thing. It just doesn't feel right…kind of like everything else that has happened over the past month and a half. Yet, I do think that this event will give us a different perspective of things, much like that of if we find out who Wormey's past family was."

"Are we really goin' to go all the way back ta Romania just to ask Wormey who his former owner was," Phillip piped in.

"Yeah," Charlie answered, "but I think it would be best to wait until after we find out what's happening at Shadowground before going back to Woan. I'm positive that everything's connected, from the dragon poachers we fought all the way down to the Victorian Shalers, and it would be better on our part if we had some knowledge beforehand, or else we might be walking away from Wormey with more questions rather than answers."

"I agree," Hermione nodded, "we should wait until after Sunday and then decide on when it would be best to go back and talk to Wormey."

Phillip then nodded himself, saying with a friendly smile, "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

The following night, Charlie and Hermione found themselves walking up towards the front door of the Burrow after receiving a letter from Mrs. Weasley, asking for them to join in on an evening dinner in which all of the Weasley family, sans Ginny, along with Harry would be gathering.

After a gargantuan dinner had been served in the kitchen of the Burrow, many had retired to the living room where Fred and George were grilling Percy over his recent date with a certain witch named Audrey, Mr. Weasley was reading a Muggle newspaper he picked up earlier that day, the _London Evening Standard_ , Bill and Fleur had seemingly disappeared from sight, while Victoire was bouncing away in Charlie's lap while Mrs. Weasley was complaining to him about his hair length.

"Really, dear, it is getting much too long," she said, eyeing it with distaste as if it were a poisonous plant.

"Mum, I can barely run my fingers through it," he retorted, combing through the action to prove his point. "It's not much longer than it was the last time you saw me."

Hermione wasn't paying attention to this exchange for instead, she was sitting with Harry and Ron on the floor in front of the fireplace as the two filled her in on recent events of the Ministry, particularly with the Auror department.

"It's hard for many people to grasp, but the auror did admit to murdering that man in St. Mungo's," Harry said to Hermione.

"Octavian Rual," Hermione announced with a heavy sigh.

"What," Ron interjected with a puzzled expression.

"Octavian Rual was the man the auror killed back in St. Mungo's," she explained. "I just…I just don't believe it. The motive the auror gave as to why he killed Rual was because he was an undercover dragon poacher, but I think it's just a load of rubbish."

"But that could be the truth," Harry remarked, his bright green eyes gleaming behind his round spectacles.

"Perhaps but why would an auror murder because of it? It doesn't add up."

Ron started, "Maybe the auror-what's his name again Harry?"

"Cisstian."

"Right," Ron nodded, "well maybe Cisstian knew this Rual character before and they had a lot of heat between them."

"Yes but would 'heat between them' cause Cisstian to commit an act of murder," Hermione tested. When Ron didn't respond, she continued, "I just can't believe no one is looking further into this!"

"Hermione," Ron returned, nearly groaning, "He admitted it! It was in the Prophet! What more is there to look at?"

Hermione gave him a cold look, replying, "You can't just take everything at face value, Ron. Sometimes there is more to a story than admittance."

The youngest Weasley son wasn't fazed as he retorted, "Yes but there are situations which you can take at face value and this might be one of those times: Rual was murdered, Cisstian admitted it, then Azkaban Prison."

Hermione scoffed as she rolled her eyes and shook her head softly from side to side. While it wasn't his fault, Ron was riling her up, just as he had done ever since she's known him. This was one of the main reasons as to why she and Ron weren't compatible; Ron didn't seem to harness any willpower to get the last word in over Hermione. It was like he knew exactly what to say that would tie her wand up in a knot, yet, he let the words out of his mouth anyway, not thinking about what effect it would have on her afterwards.

"Hermione," Harry intervened in a more quiet manner, though the living room's occupants still weren't paying them any attention, "the Auror department wishes this wasn't the case but he confessed to the crime."

"Do they believe it though?"

"Some do, most don't," he answered with a confused frown.

"What about you?"

Harry gulped before sharing a look with Ron. When he turned to face her, he said, "Truthfully, I don't believe he did it but there isn't much support for it."

"Don't the aurors want to know the truth though?"

"Well there's two things about that," Harry began, "first: since Cisstian acknowledged the crime, quite a bit believe that is the cold truth. Second, Cisstian wasn't a very popular guy, at least not in the department."

"So that's it then? Popularity is going to overrule possible exoneration? An innocent man might spend the rest of his life in Azkaban?"

Harry sighed, "The department doesn't see the point in digging any further into the case…they consider it closed," Harry remarked. "I don't like it either but that's just the way it is for now. I can't see a way in which they would have a re-trial except if-,"

"The Imperius Curse," Hermione stated quietly. The answer came so quickly that she didn't even have time to dissect if her sudden idea was even plausible or not. Her mind flitted back to her conversation with Charlie and Phillip back in Fauella, when the latter told them that Sprought and Wormey's past family had considered putting Director Mulligan under one of the three Unforgivable Curses.

Harry and Ron shared a look between them, one that spoke trepidation that did not go unnoticed by Hermione.

"What," she asked, looking first at Ron and then at Harry.

"It's been considered," Harry answered, "but then the question comes: why? What would be the reason behind it?"

Hermione exhaled, finding a dead end (at least for the time being) with Auror Cisstian and his possible innocence. However, this did not sit well with her as she was sure he was being framed for a crime he surely did not commit; the logic wasn't there to support the murder. The Auror department itself didn't seem at all perturbed by Cisstian's declaration, taking it as the truth and moving on; their actions, or lack thereof, made Hermione reminiscence of the not so long ago days when Voldemort had taken power over the Ministry of Magic, bypassing fair trails of innocent witches and wizards of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission headed by Dolores Umbridge.

"Anyway," Harry started again, breaking Hermione out of her thoughts, "there's something else we need to talk to you about."

"What is it?"

She noticed Ron looking over her shoulder; repeating his actions, she saw him eye his mum, who was still fussing over Charlie's hair.

"Let's move to the kitchen," Ron suggested.

Her curiosity piqued, Hermione followed her two best friends into the Burrow's empty kitchen, where they sat at its table, Hermione across from Harry and Ron.

"Okay, what happened," she urged, taking notice that Ron was growing increasing uncomfortable with each passing second that ticked by.

"Well," he began, before he stopped, cleared his throat, paused, sighed in defeat, and said, "I can't do it…you tell her Harry."

"Tell me what?"

Harry gave Ron an annoyed look, one that asked, 'Why can't you?' but nonetheless stated, "Ron dropped out of the Auror training program."

"You what," Hermione exclaimed, louder than she had meant to.

"Keep it down, Hermione," Ron rushed out, his eyes darting quickly over to the entrance of the living room to see if anyone in there had heard her.

"Sorry," she muttered. "When did this happen?"

"Last week," Ron answered, training his gaze back on her.

When she didn't respond right away, Ron continued, "Aren't you going to ask 'why'?"

"I know why, Harry told me."

At this, Ron leveled Harry with an affronted face, to which Harry replied, "Hermione's our best friend. She deserves to know."

"Ron, what about your mum? Does she know," Hermione inquired, thinking she already knew the answer to it.

"No," he shook his head from left to right, "if she did, she would be in here now, yelling her brains out at me for dropping out instead of hanging around Charlie and worrying over his hair. It's not even that long, by the way!"

"Are you going to tell her?"

"Are you mad? Did you take one too many hits in the head by dragon tails over in Wales," Ron fired back.

"Ron," Harry cut in, "your mum is going to find out sooner or later. If you keep this off, it's only going to be worse if she learns about this from a different source other than you."

"She's going to be mad," Ron noted, looking down at the table before him. "Worse than anything Fred and George has ever done times two, no make that times seven."

"Honestly, what would she do if she did find out," Hermione questioned, thinking that Harry was right in having Ron inform his mum about leaving training.

He snorted and said, "Probably wouldn't be afraid to kick me out."

"I don't think-," Hermione started but Harry talked across her.

"Then you can come room with me."

Hermione snapped her mouth shut, not comprehending what Harry had just said.

"Come live with you…what do you mean, Harry?"

He looked across the table at her, his cheeks coated in a light shade of red, as he clarified in a slightly shy tone, "Haven't I told you? I got a place of my own."

Hermione's mouth then fall open in a stunned manner as the realization of his announcement crashed into her.

"Oh, Harry, did you really?" When he nodded his head, Hermione cried out happily, "Congratulations!"

"Thanks," he smiled over at her.

"Where?"

"Several blocks away from the Ministry. It's not much, just a small flat but it's a place to finally call my own."

Hermione thought that Harry sounded jubilant, though he was keeping it in a tight reign as to try and not make such a big deal out of it. This was a big step into adulthood in Hermione's eyes, having a home, it not mattering if it was luxurious or just a small two bed-one bath. It suddenly dawned on Hermione that she had the same thing: a place to call her own…with Charlie, at least for now. It remained uncertain if she would keep to the Wales Dragon Reserve once her assignment ended, though Mr. McGill had kept extending her time there, not that she was complaining.

"Did you purchase it?"

"No, it's a rental."

"Still, that's incredible!"

"Don't you have the same type of arrangement in Wales," Harry queried.

"Um, not exactly. I mean, we didn't have to pay anything for the house we're in as they're all on the actual dragon reserve," Hermione said.

"Hang on…what do you mean by 'we'," Ron asked, halting the conversation.

Hermione looked over at Ron, who was eyeing her curiously, as she suddenly felt her own cheeks twinge a delicate pink. It then occurred to Hermione that it was highly probable that none of the Weasleys and Harry knew that she and Charlie were living together, nor that they were dating.

"Oh, um, well," she faltered, thinking it was best not to lie but not tell Harry and Ron the entire truth if it wasn't warranted, "Uh, it's just that Charlie and I live together. That's all."

"Really," came the voice of Harry.

"Live together," Ron echoed, a small hint of jealousy clear within his voice as Harry shot her a pointed look, which she ignored.

"The homes there are of two types: singles and doubles. Charlie thought it would be for the best if we got a double residence. There are two separate bedrooms so it's fine," she explained, trying to skirt around the subject matter that the two of them were actually dating; though if push came to shove, Hermione might have to tell Harry and Ron about it.

"Why would he think that," Ron inquired, still looking at Hermione dubiously, as if she was of an alien specimen that had just been recently discovered by a nomadic wizarding tribe in the sands of a vast desert.

Hermione sighed as she responded, "He just wanted me to be as comfortable as possible. It was my first time having an extended stay on an actual dragon reserve, as I didn't actually live on the one in Romania. It's nothing more than that."

Ron still looked doubtful.

"But why did he want you to be comfortable-,"

"Oh don't be ridiculous," she snapped, growing irritated that the questioning had turned onto her. "I believe we were talking about you dropping out of the Auror training program," she said, whispering the last several words. "So what have you been doing since you left?"

"I've been with Fred and George at the shop," Ron told her simply.

"Are you an actual partner?"

"No, I'm just a cashier but it's a start. They thought I was joking at first when I told them I wanted to work with them, which was kind of ironic seeing that their business is a joke shop, but they've been pretty calm about it."

"Do they know that your mum doesn't know of you dropping out of the program?"

"Yes."

"And they're okay with it?"

"Well, no, not really," Ron replied, looking a little troubled. "They told me to tell her so that she doesn't come in the shop midday and cause a scene."

Hermione and Harry shared a look before she stated, "Ron, you're going to have to tell her; you can't keep this a secret forever."

"I know, I know," he said hastily, looking as if he wanted to do anything but, "I'm just trying to find the right time."

Harry started to offer, "How about when-,"

However he was cut off by Mrs. Weasley, who appeared seemingly out of nowhere, exclaiming, "There you three are!"

They ceased their conversation at once, turning to stare at her, bug-eyed; Hermione heard Ron whimpering a little.

"I think it's time for a spot of dessert!"

The chocolate treacle tart affair had been rather noisy with its consumption, as Victoire had a jolly time of smearing the ice cream that was served with it all over her face, much to the disdain of Bill and Fleur, who abruptly reappeared at the start of dessert. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley cooed over at their granddaughter, smiling and laughing, sound off cries of, "How adorable!" and "She sure takes after your eating habits, Bill!"

After dessert was finished, Hermione was aware that the night was still early as Victoire had yet to expend her energy, as she was running around the living room with Bill chasing her, Fleur watching on with a smile; Fred and George had struck up a conversation with Harry and Ron over a recent trade of players between the Falmouth Falcons and Puddlemere United Quidditch teams; and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were conversing in the kitchen; however, Charlie was missing, though she saw him slip outside some minutes before.

As discreetly as she could, Hermione exited the wild Burrow, taking in a calm breath at the quietness that suddenly surrounded her, save for several nocturnal animals that were about. Thinking she knew where Charlie had gone off to, Hermione started walking, her shoes scrunching over the grass beneath her while a cool wind made her shiver slightly.

With her destination firm in her mind, Hermione looked around and saw miles and miles of darkness, the bordering hills rising and falling likes black waves of a night ocean with the only source of light coming from the Burrow behind her and the Weasley orchard, it being infested with fairies, their multi-colored lights moving amongst its branches. Hermione smiled faintly to herself at the sight, remembering the first night she and Charlie had talked was nearby the colorful lights of the trees.

However, she didn't stop there for she continued on, turning slightly to her left, heading towards a small cluster of woods: Amata.

Entering through two thick trees that acted as an improvised entrance, Hermione, in the dark, saw Charlie sitting on the edge of the rock that stood some feet above the pond.

She made her way over and sat beside him as he said, "I was hoping you'd find me in here."

Hermione laughed slightly, returning, "And I thought you were just trying to get away from your mum."

She saw him nod his head, "She has been quite tenacious tonight over the state of my hair. I mean, truthfully, is it really that long?"

He turned to face her as she looked over at him. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark as she a young, boyish look on his face, though she was positive this was not done on purpose.

"No, it's not that long but I just like it shorter; apparently, your mum does too."

"You two would be one hellacious tag-team," he commented, making her giggle, nudging her shoulder with his playfully.

The branches of the surrounding area swayed and creaked in the wind, parting to showcase the galaxy of stars past them, twinkling against a black canvas. Tonight, Amata was immeasurably peaceful, especially compared with the happenings that were taking place inside the Burrow; it was as if Hermione and Charlie had never parted from Amata at all, though in reality, a month separated their last visit with the natural-grown vicinity.

Hermione wrapped herself around one of Charlie's arm, hugging it, and staring up the silhouettes of the trees, as she thought, for some unknown reason, they looked hauntingly beautiful tonight.

"You, Ron, and Harry seemed to be plotting another Ministry raid," Charlie suddenly said, breaking the silence around them.

"We plan to break-in on Sunday night," she shot back, feeling Charlie's shake with laughter. "No, we were talking mainly about Ron. He dropped out of the Auror training program."

"Did he really?" As Hermione nodded her head against him, he continued, "Wow…I can't believe he pulled the trigger. I didn't think he had enough-," he suddenly stopped his train of thought and redirected, "well, I just didn't think he would do it."

"Your mum doesn't know yet though."

"Of course not; if she did, she wouldn't have put up such a fuss over my hair," he commented in an annoyed manner, making Hermione smile again.

"We also talked about the auror that murdered the undercover dragon poacher at St. Mungo's."

"Did they have any thought on it?"

"Harry just said that the department takes it as the truth and has moved on. But I don't think that's the case, especially since Sprought was leading the hearing. I mean, Harry and Ron don't know Sprought like we do."

"Do you have any new thoughts on the matter?"

"Charlie, I think it's possible that the auror was placed under the Imperius Curse. The only question was who put it on him?"

"What makes you think that," he asked.

"I don't know if there's any history between the two but even if there is, would that be a cause for a murder? Even Director Mulligan and Sprought have a lot of bad blood between them yet the worst they do is insult each other with their words."

"To be fair, they have tried to hex each other every time we've seen them together on the Wales Dragon Reserve," Charlie reasoned.

"Yes but a stray hex is far different from committing a killing. If the auror was placed under the Imperius Curse, it had to have been placed on him by someone who's working with Sprought. And…," she hesitated, as her mind steered her towards the conclusion, "I think it's someone who works on the reserve with us."

Although Hermione still gazed over at the surrounding trees while hugging his arm, she felt Charlie's eyes on her.

"That's a pretty serious claim to make," he told her slowly, "especially if it turns out to be true."

"I know but I think it's all connected."

"Okay, run me through it."

Hermione disentangled herself from him as they turned towards each other; she took notice that his bright-blue eyes seemed to glimmer in the darkness, looking as if two sapphires were attached to a shadowed boulder.

"Let's start with the house in the woods: I think that that's where the poachers that attacked us came out of, only it was three of them, not two. Two poachers infiltrated the reserve and stole three dragon eggs. The third's job was to set a dragon loose and distract us while they tried to escape. The flaw in their plan was that Terrance noticed their footsteps and alerted us that they were on the reserve. Therefore, the third poacher stayed back, bidding his time to do his job, while the other two attacked us. When we were fighting them in Woan, the third poacher let the Romanian Longhorn loose, and waited until we went to rescue it.

"I think Sprought ordered this all to happen but didn't anticipate that one of the poachers would be caught by us. Therefore, he instructed his, shall we call it, 'inside man', to go to St. Mungo's, place the standing auror under the Imperius Curse to kill the caught poacher, and confess to the murder. This played into his hands for he led the hearing of the said auror before sentencing him to Azkaban Prison. Also, I think Sprought might have hand-picked the auror that would stand guard."

"But why would Sprought want the poacher dead?"

"Because he was caught and it was risk to keep him alive or else he might've blown whatever operation Sprought is conducting under Veritaserum, which I'm sure has something to do with the Victorian Shalers. But here's what I'm thinking: Director Mulligan is innocent."

"It's not that I disbelieve you, but I want to know why you think so," Charlie stated.

"Remember back in the Castle of Stone, when we went after the Romanian Longhorn?" When Charlie nodded his head, she furthered, "It was Director Mulligan's broomstick that was initially targeted and blasted apart."

Hermione saw Charlie think this over before he nodded his head in realization, though because of the darkness, his nod was a mere shadow.

"That's right," he commented, more to himself than her, "I'd forgotten all about that. Why didn't you tell this to Phillip last night?"

Hermione shrugged. "I only started putting this all together earlier today."

"Well, I guess we'll find out tomorrow if Director Mulligan is innocent or not if he's at the event being held at Shadowground."

"Yes but that's only if the event turns out to be bad. There is a chance that nothing will come from it. I mean, Terrance knows about it and I think he's on our side."

"I can't believe we're talking about who's on who's side but I think you're right about Terrance," Chare agreed, nodding his head. "Besides being one hell of a dragon handler, he's my best mate; we've known each other for ages. Do you have any thought regarding the Victorian Shalers?"

"No," she returned, "that's where I'm drawing a complete blank. The only thing I can think of that's strange about it is its hypnosis-like powers, if that's even what it has; it could be something else entirely."

"Well, you did make a lot of progress."

"I don't know if I'd call it 'progress'; it's just what I think."

"If it's worth anything, it does make sense. The only problem is proving it to be true. That certainly won't be an easy task. Hopefully though, we can find out more information tomorrow if this meeting at Shadowground is what I think it is," Charlie remarked, his gaze falling onto the pond's water below them. "By the way, do you think the event tomorrow night will be formal?"

Hermione thought about this, thinking it was a rather odd question of Charlie to ask. She answered, "I'm not sure. But why do you want to know?"

A slow smile crept onto his face as he said, "If it is, we have to look nice right?"

"Right," Hermione conceded with an air of inquisitiveness.

"You said yesterday that I look more handsome with shorter hair, right?"

Growing agitated with his sluggish pace of peculiar questions, Hermione questioned, "Charlie, where exactly are you going with this?"

"If the meeting tomorrow night is formal, you, me, and Phillip need to look nice. Looking nice equates to being handsome, and according to you, being handsome equates to shorter hair. Therefore, I want you to give me a haircut."

Hermione scoffed, "That's what you were getting at? Couldn't you have just asked me to give you a haircut?"

"Yeah but it wouldn't been as fun," he pouted, jutting out his lower lip.

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, Hermione said, "You want me to do it right here and now?"

"No, no, no, I meant back at our house," he said, his smile now stretching over his face.

"You can be very strange sometimes, Charlie."

"I know," he shrugged, "but I classify that strangeness as one of my best features, if not the best."

Hermione laughed as she supplied, "You know, I don't have much practice in giving haircuts. The only times I did was Harry and Ron's when we were on the run. I could mess it up."

In the dark, Charlie grabbed her hands in his. "I trust you…I trust you with my life."

"That's a bold statement to make."

"Bold but true."

Charlie reached over and brushed his lips over hers, lingering for a small moment. After pulling away, he said, "Come on, let's get out of here."

The two then made their way out of Amata, the trees still swaying and creaking in the wind, and back towards the towering Burrow. Stepping inside, Hermione saw Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen by herself, sipping a cup of tea.

An idea struck Hermione as she whispered to Charlie, "I want to speak to your mum for a minute. I just have a question I want to ask her about."

Charlie quirked his head to one side in oddness.

"Okay," he said before searching the rest of home to say his farewells.

Mrs. Weasley smiled when she saw Hermione approach her as Hermione asked what was on her mind. Mrs. Weasley gave her specific instructions that Hermione detailed in her head just as Charlie reappeared. The two then wished the Weasley matriarch a goodnight before they _popped_ away.

"I wonder when those two will admit it," Mrs. Weasley asked herself softly in the hollowness of the kitchen with a knowing smile. "It's cute how they think it's a secret though." With that, Mrs. Weasley downed the rest of her tea in a cheerful manner, basking in the calmness of the night.

* * *

Once back in their home, Charlie instantly turned to Hermione and softly inquired, "What did you have to ask my mum about?"

"Oh, just a simple spell that transforms clothes."

"Transforms clothes," Charlie replicated, cocking his head to one side in mystification.

"It's like you said back in Amata: if the meeting at Shadowground tomorrow is formal, I don't think that wearing t-shirts and jeans will get us in. Simple transfiguration on clothes can only do so much but I read over a spell one time that'll change your entire outfit…I just couldn't remember it."

"Wow, Miss Hermione Granger not remembering a simple wardrobe spell…I must be dreaming," Charlie joked.

"I didn't think I'd ever need it," Hermione smiled, shaking her head with comedic relief, "so I never really stored it in my memory."

"Hmpf," Charlie remarked before turning on his heel and making his way down the hallway, back towards their two bedrooms.

"What does that mean," Hermione questioned, following behind.

"Exactly what I meant it to mean."

"That just doesn't make any sense."

"To you, but not to me."

"Care to elaborate?"

"I just did."

"Not in a way that I could understand."

"And that's my problem?"

Hermione huffed making Charlie chuckle as he turned around to face her, the darkened hall masking their exchange.

"So do you want to do it," he suddenly asked.

"Do what?"

"Give me a haircut."

"You can't do it by yourself?"

"I can but firstly, I don't think I need one, and secondly, I'd probably do a poor job of it, especially in the back," he reasoned.

"It's not like you have a lot of hair to trim down, just a little on the sides and some on the top," Hermione relayed.

"Okay then. Care to do it for me?"

"Why are you so insistent that I cut your hair for you?"

Charlie shrugged, "I dunno; I just like the idea of it, I guess. I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to."

Hermione paused a beat before she answered, "No, I can. Do you want to go in my washroom or yours?"

"Well I don't want to get my hair all over your bathroom floor so we can go to mine, but I have to warn you: it's a bit messy."

Charlie then beckoned Hermione forward as she stepped in behind him, as he turned the knob of his door.

"My room's in a right state also, just so you know," he told her quietly over his shoulder.

Entering inside, Hermione saw that he was right: while his bed was made (haphazardly so), clothing items were strewn all over the place with several t-shirts piled atop of his desk, pairs of socks, rolled into balls, were tucked away into corners, while two boxer shorts adorned the threshold of his attached loo.

"Sorry," he muttered, growing red in the face, quickly picking his undergarments up, walking over, and stuffing them in his wardrobe.

Hermione was on the verge of laughter at his growing discomfort yet she managed to hold it in.

His bathroom was exactly the same as hers and was messy, though it did not match his disorganized bedroom.

"So how shall we do this," he asked.

"Um, since you're taller than me I think it would be better if you sat down that way I could see what I'm doing," Hermione suggested.

With a curt nod, Charlie waved his wand and made a comfortable-looking chair appear before the mirror, as he sat down upon the seat and looked at Hermione expectantly, waiting.

"Also, I uh, I think it would be better if you took off your shirt to avoid hair from sticking to it," Hermione stated.

Without saying a word, Charlie pulled his gray t-shirt up over his head and set it gently on the counter.

"Okay, I-I'm going to start now," she announced. Charlie didn't indicate that he had heard her for he kept staring at her in the mirror.

She rapidly glanced at his exposed upper body and mentally drooled, seeing how perfect it was, even with the freckles that decorated it like confetti.

Using her wand, just as she had for Harry and Ron, Hermione trimmed Charlie's fiery red hair, cutting its top, sides, and back. She noticed that while she was doing this, Charlie remained completely still, so still that he could have passed for a stone gargoyle, while he gulped numerous times, his eyes never once leaving her. Hermione herself sensed the intimacy and passion radiating off of him, like the heat from the sun, making her feel particularly warm. Charlie was a hot-blooded male, looking as if he was waiting to conquer something that had evaded him for so long.

Small red hairs littered his wide shoulders, though he didn't seem to mind. His breathing was even, yet very deep, reverberating down to his stomach while his hands rested on his jean-clad thighs.

After several minutes of total silence, save for the couple's hushed breathing, Hermione brushed the short hairs from his shoulders and said, "Okay, I'm finished. Take a look and tell me what you think."

She studied him as he stared at himself in the mirror, turning his head to one side and then the other, peering over her work. She hadn't cut that much off, since his hair really wasn't all that long to begin with, yet a simple trim made him look younger and incredibly handsome.

"It's perfect…just like you," he said, once again meeting her eyes with their reflections.

Hermione laughed once, saying, "I'm far from perfect; you, on the other hand, look good."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Have you looked at yourself in the mirror, Charlie? Your body is…well, it's great," Hermione said, more descriptive words failing her.

"Why do you sound like yours isn't," he asked, narrowing his eyes, while he folded his arms over his wide chest, like he was protecting his muscled pectorals.

"Because it's the truth. I know I don't have the ideal body for a girlfriend, especially for someone who looks as good as you. You probably want someone more curvy or a body that fits yours or-,"

"Hermione," Charlie interrupted, standing to his feet and staring at her, "is that what this is about: you being ashamed of how you look?"

She sighed, turning away from him, as she felt her face flame red.

"I never thought about it before because I never had to. It's not that I'm unhappy with how I look, but standing next to you, I look so plain, almost as if we're mismatched because our bodies are so different."

"Well of course they're different: you're a gal and I'm a guy," he replied, trying to inject a flick of humor into the conversation.

Hermione felt the corners of her mouth flick upwards before she responded, "You know what I mean."

"Actually, I don't know what you mean at all."

Hermione turned back towards him as he licked his lips and continued, "What kind of bird is a guy who looks like me supposed to go after?"

"You have muscles and you're incredibly fit!"

"And?"

"And," she repeated incredulously.

"Hermione, guys have different attractions that draws them to a girl; nothing is universal."

She shook her head softly, nearly whispering, "How could you be attracted to someone who looks as ordinary as me?"

He waited for a moment, seeing the fear of her not living up to some fantasized expectations in her eyes.

"It's who you are that attracts me to you, not because of how you look. Yes, some guys, guys like Terrance, are focused on outward appearances, and could care less about emotional compatibility. I was like that too, at one time."

"Then what changed?"

"Being with my ex changed me. Remember I told you about her before? She was gorgeous on the outside but turned out to be deceitful on the inside. After that, I kind of derailed a bit and sat back to think what I really wanted out of a partner. I went on some dates, had a few flings, and then you came along. You made me realize what I was looking for. I kept telling myself, 'Find someone that's like Hermione, find someone that's like Hermione.' It was only sometime later that I didn't have to find someone like you because what I really wanted out of a partner was you.

"I just wish that you weren't so hard on yourself. I know we can all be a bit critical of how we look but there's nothing about you that I would change, inward or outwardly. You're the one for me Hermione," he went on, taking a step closer to her so that their bodies touched, his exposed upper half and her clothed chest. "You don't need to change a thing."

"I just sometimes feel you deserve better."

He shook his head from left to right. "No, I think that you deserve better."

With that, Charlie lowered his head and kissed her, moving his lips against hers in a steady rhythm. Her hands wrapped around his neck while his snuggled her waist, confining her body against his.

Charlie moaned against her mouth making her heart-rate quicken, beating to an abnormal pattern. Charlie broke their connection before he started to plant wet kisses along her neck, as she took the time to travel her hands over his pectorals, reveling in the softness of his skin under her touch.

"Hermione," his voice pleaded, as her hands continued their quest downward and over his rock-hard abdomen, "Hermione."

Charlie then returned back to her lips, the two taking pleasure in voyaging across uncrossed territories between them. He walked her backward and out of his washroom, keeping his hands on the base of her back to keep her from tripping, never breaking their lip lock perusal.

The more their mouths moved against each other's, the hungrier Charlie seemed to become: not of food, but of her. It was like he was starved of devouring what he could of her as she felt as if he wanted to show her how attracted he was to her, regarding her as a perfect fit for him.

Breaking their contact once more, Charlie swiftly went over and closed his bedroom door, Hermione wondering why he did so as no one else lived with them.

"Do you want to do this, Hermione," he asked quietly, looking into her eyes with a hint of arousal combined with slits of desperation. He gulped. "We don't have to if you don't want to or are uncomfortable."

"You ask me this after you close your room door," she softly replied, though her whole body was shaking.

His face broke into a wide smile, one that screamed of his boyish charm, making him look extraordinarily attractive, boosting her own need.

"I've never been with anyone before," she stated quietly, not breaking their stare.

"If you want to wait, I understand," he said, not faltering his step.

She nodded and supplied, "Well, there is a first time for everything, isn't there?"

Charlie didn't say anything back yet kept his eyes trained on her, x-raying her words and body language to see if she was up for it.

Hermione, feeling as a soon-to-be twenty year old, thought she was ready. Wasting no further time, she closed the gap separating her and Charlie and met his lips with her own. He initially stiffened in surprise before he kept in time with her.

Excitement mixed with nerves raced throughout her system, making her feel cold when just moments ago, she felt so warm with Charlie's eyes on her as she gave him a small trim. She internally decided that she was going to follow Charlie's lead as she didn't have any idea what to expect. For the time being though, Charlie seemed too invested in exploring her mouth as intimately as possible, pausing for breaths at random beats, before taking the plunge again.

He then drifted apart, swallowed, and tugged at the base of her blouse, not uttering a single word. She comprehended the message however, for she pulled out her ponytail and then removed her blouse, discarding it on the nearby desk chair.

Without her top, Hermione felt exposed as she felt Charlie's eyes on her. Her gaze drifted downward, not wanting to know if Charlie had a second thought to discontinue the course they were on, to take an exit ramp, upon seeing what was beneath.

A second later, he lifted her chin with his index finger, his sea-blue eyes soft on hers.

"You don't need to be ashamed, Hermione, you're the perfect fit for me."

He then resumed their snog, breaking it after a few moments to trail love bites on her shoulder. He then moved toward her neck once again, as she closed her eyes when she felt his tongue trail down her neck, making her articulate her pleasure.

Charlie then unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pushing them down to his ankles. Hermione looked down and saw his stimulation, a pair of navy blue boxer shorts barely holding it in. Hermione repeated his actions as they both stepped out of their jeans and made for his bed.

Hermione climbed on it as Charlie followed, as he then took charge. Without sparing another breath, he lay atop of her, trapping her under his weight as he went back to their kiss, though this time, his tongue was asking permission to enter.

She granted access, the two of them battling for supremacy and to fulfill their pooling desires that had since ignited, becoming towering infernos within them.

Charlie suddenly rolled over, having Hermione astride his body, his hands pressing against her bottom, making her feel how much he wanted her.

"Charlie," she breathed into his mouth, feeling a sensation begin to bubble deep inside.

His hands then moved up and unclipped her bra, abandoning it to the floor. He then sat up and broke their kiss, taking care to roam his eyes over her, his face content with pleasure.

Pecking her lips once, Charlie moved off of the bed, grabbing her hand and pulled her with him. She knew what was coming yet she felt more nervous than she ever had before.

Without taking his eyes from her, Charlie slipped his hands under the elastic band of his boxer shorts and slid them off of his body, revealing which body part had erected a tent with his undergarments.

Hermione stared at it, as the first thought that crossed her mind was, 'Will that fit inside me?'

It stood in its glory, uncovered but at full attention.

Charlie offered a small smile before he took a seat on the edge of his bed. He spread his legs, pulling Hermione toward him as he trailed his tongue around her stomach, leaving her no other option except to run her hands threw his newly-cut hair, making it an unruly mess. She felt her knees grow weak with this bubbling sensation while her heart grew heavy with desire. Charlie was clearly taking his time, wanting to richly explore her. He was relentless though, his tongue showing no signs of letting up. Her breathing quickened as she began to pant his name. She chanced a look down and saw his toes curl.

He then discontinued his journeying and slowly pulled off Hermione's remaining undergarment. Stepping out of it, Charlie asked huskily, "Last chance, Hermione."

Ripping a page out of his own book, she tucked her index finger under his chin and lifted it up to meet her gaze.

Taking in long breaths as she saw how much Charlie wanted her at that moment, she said one word that would seal them together, "Yes."

He smiled before standing to his feet as she crawled onto his bed again, he following her like a panther meeting its prey. She rested her head against one of his pillows, he having pushed two stacked ones away.

"This may feel a little uncomfortable at first," he relayed, looking into her eyes, "but I'll take it slow."

She nodded and looked up at him as he spread her legs and positioned himself over her.

"Are you ready?"

With her heart rate beating wildly out of time, Hermione nodded her head wordlessly, seeing determination in Charlie's eyes to not hurt her.

He himself nodded while he said, "Keep your eyes on me, Hermione. Don't look away."

Ever so slowly, Hermione felt the penetration, as Charlie guided into her. She gasped loudly, feeling the bubbling sensation nearly reaching its boiling point. He went farther and farther inside her, as she felt as if a balloon was expanding inside her abdomen; a feeling of fullness and pressure erupted, while a slight feeling of discomfort remained.

"How are you," he asked, his voice rough with emotional depth of what he and Hermione were experiencing that night.

"Charlie," was all she could let out.

He smirked before he swallowed and said, "I'm going to start moving now, okay?"

She nodded again as Charlie lay on top of her, his face hovering inches from hers, and began moving to a distant rhythm, one that played only in his head.

Hermione couldn't help it: she closed her eyes as a pleasure spread all around her, swimming in the intimacy of she and Charlie connected as one. Charlie went back to roaming his tongue over her neck as she felt his pace quicken. While her discomfort persisted, it was soon overtaken by windfalls of passion, excitement, and intoxication.

Charlie began grunting as his speed still continued on, the headboard of his bed banging against the wall, creating a tempo of its own.

Hermione had never felt anything like this in her life as her sense of direction flipped upside down and inside out. Charlie's labored breaths and loud groans, mixed in with the headboard and wall compilation, and the squeaking springs of the mattress underneath them filled her ears, as one of her hands grasped the back of his neck while the other was wound from underneath his arm, curling over his shoulder.

"Hermione," Charlie started, gasping for breath, "I can't…I'm going to…". Then, he plunged deep inside of her several times hard, as she felt a throbbing sensation within her, spiraling her down unto intimate pleasure, her thoughts evaporating into illogical sense. Charlie then moaned loudly, as he stilled and pulsated, which was followed by a certain warmth spreading inside of her.

"Hermione," Charlie began, having ceased his movements yet his chest was rising and falling rapidly, "are…are you o-okay?"

In response, Hermione brought her lips to meet his. He kissed her back as he rolled over, having her straddle him.

She broke the kiss and stated slowly, as she too was out of breath, "That was incredible," as a wide smile broke over her face.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head. "I'm a little sore but other than that, I feel fine."

"Are you tired?"

"Why?"

Charlie grinned up at her, his hands creating a pillow for his head.

"There was something else I had in mind."

She quirked up a brow and questioned, "And what's that."

"Let me show you."

With that, he rolled over back on top her and pulled his bed sheets over their two bodies.


	24. Nocturnal

A/N: Hello all! I meant for this chapter to be posted yesterday but towards the end, I ran into a bad case of writer's block in which I questioned the authenticity of what I was leading the story into. However, I fixed some things here and there while I altered others. Most of the mysteries will be fleshed out in the following chapter. Thanks for reading!

* * *

Chapter 24: Nocturnal

Hermione was warm…very, very warm. She also felt like she was harboring some sort of added weight to her, though she couldn't identify what the object, assuming it was a simple, everyday type of item, was through her closed eyes. She shifted slightly and suddenly wished she hadn't for a certain soreness pooled down between her thighs, making her mentally clench her teeth against it. The pain wasn't unbearable; in fact, she might've been tempted to say it was some sort of sweet comfort to her, with the presumption it wasn't anything detrimental to her body and health.

Her ears then perked up as soft rumbles of snores entered her hearing passages, resembling a chorus close to a choir of angels. This made Hermione smile as her body slowly swam back to reality, whilst images of what she experienced last night entered back into her head.

The previous evening, she and Charlie had connected as one, fulfilling their passions of lust and desire as they put on an intimate display. Afterwards, they had taken refuge under Charlie's bed sheets where a small round of foreplay ensued before nearly an hour later (at least it seemed that way to Hermione), they fell asleep. Of course, she hadn't meant to sneak away a night's slumber with Charlie in his own bed, yet she hadn't put in much effort to move back to her own quarters.

Low snores continued to reverberate around the room as Hermione sluggishly came to, lifting her eyelids open, blinking rapidly, and then emitting a wide yawn, which she covered with her hand.

She still felt warm and heavy, her head resting against one of the room's pillows for she then turned her head to look over her shoulder and came face-to-face with Charlie, his hair an unruly mess (by cause of her hands the previous night) while his lips were slightly parted; he looked fully content with himself and with his current sleeping arrangement. Hermione then realized he had one of his arms draped over her side, securing her in place so that she couldn't escape (which was the farthest thing from her mind that early morning), as her back was pressed against his chest, both body areas exposed. She then came to terms that one of his legs was slung over hers, placing an even more effective trap to keep her where she was.

His bed comforter had slipped down to their waists as Hermione turned her body to face Charlie's. When she did so, his hold on her side tightened while his leg copied its grip, wrapping around her own, as if keeping guard over it, as it seemed he didn't want her to move.

With a heavy effort, Hermione managed to turn all the way around, as she looked at Charlie's peaceful sleeping face once more before she settled her head against the base of his neck, wrapping her own arm around his side.

Hermione closed her eyes once more, being in a position that was much too comfortable to think about climbing out of. From somewhere outside, birds greeted each other as a slight pitter-patter of water splashed against the room's window, the rays of the sun effectively blocked from making an appearance. It was the perfect weather to stay inside, namely under bed sheets, with a significant other, and waste the day away, finding shelter from the rain and partaking in more disorderly conduct – the type of behavior usually reserved behind closed doors, shielded from the public eye.

Charlie then murmured incoherently, drawing Hermione's eyes back open as she slightly pulled away from him, trying to gauge if he was awake. He shifted a bit, ahead of pulling Hermione closer to him, trying to outfit her body with his own. It was then that she felt a namely male arousal press hard into her. Of course, Charlie had introduced this to her last night, with few words exchanged, before it became accustomed to her own anatomy; it was, for lack of a better phrase, 'love at first sight,' as far as she was concerned.

The actions she and Charlie had participated in might've stood against the beliefs Mrs. Weasley held, along with that of her own parents, yet it was a mutual and consented decision, made by two adults, in the blooming season of raw intimacy. She wasn't ashamed she had went against her innate promise to herself to wait until marriage to first have sex because everyone's first time to let down their own guard came at different times in their own lives. And Charlie was careful with her as she could feel that he wasn't an ordinary fling in which once they had sex, they would be done with each other. Truthfully, she wanted to have sex again but only if it was with Charlie and no one else.

"Hmm, Hermione," he issued out, moving his body about, drilling against her.

She bit her lip from moaning aloud, not wanting to disturb his snooze. After a minute, she then began to study his face, seeing his red brows, one she has seen pull together many times since she's gotten to know him; his medium-sized nose which displayed a small splash of freckles; his full lips which had lavished her mouth and neck the night before, making her feel wanted and desired. Her brown eyes traveled down to his wide shoulders where a whole host of small dots were situated upon, they resembling no correlation of a pattern, as a handful found its way onto his firm chest.

"Hermione," he let out again, though his eyes remained shut, making her wonder if he was dreaming about her.

Deciding to be bold, she took the initiative and planted a soft kiss against Charlie's lips. She pulled away after a second yet that seemed to fully alert him into a conscious state, for his eyes popped open, revealing bright blue sapphires. A long smile curled its way over his face then as he asked in a slightly sluggish manner, "Did you just kiss me?"

"I think you might've been dreaming," Hermione playfully replied, flashing a smile of her own.

"I didn't know you were a thief, Hermione. I have to tell you that stealing a kiss requires something in return."

"You can't prove that I kissed you though."

He was quiet for a moment, licked his lips and then said, "You're right, I can't, but I do taste something sweet."

"You know we have to move, right," she questioned, seeing a certain gleam appear in his eyes, sparkling like a galaxy of stars.

"Oh, I know," he started, shifting his weight as he began to crawl on top of her, "and I have every intention of doing so."

The next hour Hermione and Charlie spent together had them remain in his bed, the sounds of a lone headboard banging against a wall, the squeaking of a mattress, and the gasps and moans of the couple filling the house to its brim.

* * *

After a quick breakfast (the pair had cooked up eggy bread, sausage, chopped strawberries, and downed glasses of juice), Hermione and Charlie washed up and stepped outside (Charlie wanted to take an early-morning walk), the soft rain from sometime before having since abated, though thick grey clouds continued to roll overhead, threatening another round of falling water.

Since it was Sunday, Hermione and Charlie only had a few hours of labor, the shifts being shorter on the weekends as all handlers were made to work, though that wasn't until later in the early afternoon.

They instead lazily strolled over the dark red pathway that wound its way through the reserve's homes. Most appeared quite cold, as the grounds stood rather empty; perhaps those who weren't currently on schedule with the dragons decided to stay indoors, the weather not sufficient for out-of-door activities.

Walking down the lane, Hermione and Charlie then spotted Terrance, sitting in his home's small porch area, holding two separate pieces of parchment in his hand.

"Morning Terrance," Charlie called out.

He looked up and Hermione saw a look of horror had fixated within his features. Charlie had noticed this too for he suddenly asked seriously, "Terrance, are you okay?"

"No…not at all," he replied in a monotone, his voice deep enough to carry over to them.

"What's up," Charlie inquired, leading Hermione by the hand up to where he sat. "Do you mind if we sit with you?"

He unhurriedly shook his head from left to right as Charlie waved his wand, conjuring two chairs next to one another, as he and Hermione took their seats.

"I'm going to be father," he suddenly announced, not meeting either Hermione or Charlie in the eye.

Hermione would've wished him a note of 'Congratulations!' though Terrance seemed distraught at the news. She and Charlie eyed one another at this tidbit of information, yet their faces remained solemn.

"I take it this comes as a surprise," Charlie said, in more of a question format rather than a statement.

"I'm going to be a father of two," he said next.

"A father of two," Charlie repeated, not understanding. "You mean like twins?"

Terrance greeted their faces with a hollow expression, as he held a piece of parchment in each hand.

"Two separate letters, two separate girls," he remarked, a certain bitterness laced within his words.

Hermione was stunned speechless. Here Terrance sat before her, someone who she considered a friend, someone who Charlie regarded as his best mate, and someone who had saved their lives in the Brazilian Bastion pen, now was confronted with life-altering news: two babies brought into existence, with both sharing in his DNA, while the separate mothers made up the rest.

"This…this just can't be happening," he said in disbelief, scrunching both letters up in his hands, turning them into parchment balls.

"Didn't you, didn't you, you know, use protection," Charlie asked.

"I thought I did," he exclaimed, throwing his head in his hands after dropping the two separate parchment balls. "Well, one witch I didn't but with the other I did. How could they get pregnant at the same time?! Why is this happening to me?!" Terrance looked infuriated before a look of disbelief crossed over his face as this emotion then morphed into a dazed expression.

"Terrance calm down-," Charlie began though he was forcefully cut off.

"Don't tell me to calm down, Charlie! You're not the one that has two kids on the way, are you? Not unless Hermione is up the duff."

"Hey! Don't talk about Hermione like that," Charlie shouted, standing to his feet, growing red in the face, a sign that his temper had instantly flared to dangerous degrees of boiling heat. The tension between the two best mates had reached a harrowing crescendo in a matter of several seconds.

"Go screw yourself, Charlie! What have you got to worry about," Terrance equally sounded off, kicking over his chair and standing to his own feet. "Tell me! What have you got to worry about, huh? I have to contend with drooling kids, changing diapers, feeding the little animals, and paying child maintenance! You, on the other hand, have a perfect life, the perfect girlfriend, the perfect everything!"

Hermione settled a hand on Charlie's shoulder, trying to transfer calmer feelings into him. This appeared to work, for Charlie took a deep breath and said evenly, "Terrance, you need to calm down and cool off. You have friends that'll help you, me included."

He scoffed at this, an ugly sneer plastered over his face. "Oh yes, the perfect Charlie Weasley helping the lowly and disgraced Terrance Wriley. You're a stuck-up perfectionist when working with the dragons, Charlie that I'm surprised you managed to snag Hermione into a relationship with you."

"You don't know anything about her," Charlie seethed, as Hermione squeezed his shoulder.

"Charlie, let's just go," she stated, not wanting a confrontation. "Please let's just go."

He glared over at Terrance before taking her hand in his as they started to leave Terrance behind.

"Hey Hermione," Terrance called back, making the couple stop in their tracks to look back at him, "if Charlie isn't satisfying your needs to any degree, you can come to me. He might be a dragon purist, but I'm quite the expert when it comes to pleasuring a woman. And you look like you could use a good one – I'm all for showing you what you're missing."

"You bloody dog," Charlie exploded, as he let go of Hermione's hand, ran back to the porch and punched Terrance square in the nose. Several sickening _cracks_ were heard as blood spurted in every direction. Terrance staggered backward in shock as Charlie sent a fist flying into his stomach, making him double over, heaving. "Take it back, you chav git, take it back!"

When Terrance didn't say anything, but continued to huff, coughing deeply, Charlie forced him upright the scruff of his t-shirt and began punching him in the face, his bicep bulging greatly with the effort, his clenched hand making contact repeatedly with its target.

Hermione was momentarily frozen on the spot, seeing the rage consume Charlie like a sonic blast. However, she suddenly took control of her bearings as she made to stop the fight. Before she could make much progress though, a pair of hands grabbed her around the waist from behind, a voice saying, "No, not ya. Lemme stop it."

Phillip set her down gently as he rushed up towards the porch, forcing his way between a bloody and bruised Terrance and an irate and furious Charlie.

"Settle down, Char! Come on, now! Take it easy," Phillip issued, placing a firm hand on Charlie's chest, making him back away.

Charlie took the coaxing as he looked over at Terrance who was nursing his right eye.

Charlie spat out, "You pitiful scumbag." He then turned around and brushed past Hermione without looking at her, his shoulders rising and falling like crumbling mountains enduring a powerful earthquake, his face a deep red.

"Go after him, 'Mione," Phillip called over to her, "make sure he's alright. I'll look after Terry."

Hermione nodded as she wondered how much Phillip had heard before he came to and broke up the fight. Mentally shaking her head of these thoughts, she dashed after Charlie down the red path as the rain began to fall. She saw him yards ahead of her, already walking up towards their front door; he opened it and then slammed it shut with immense force, making the glass windows of their home shutter in response.

She still continued after him though, entering inside, away from the thick droplets that began to increase in number and intensity.

Hermione made her way down the hall, it looking rather gloomy and depressed with a lack of light, as the rain suddenly beat down hard upon the roof overhead, sounding like small pebbles bouncing off concrete floors.

She saw that Charlie's door was closed as she hurried up to it.

"Charlie," she called out, knocking softly, her voice wavering slightly at what she had just witnessed. "Charlie, can you please talk to me?"

Silence greeted her.

"Charlie, your door better be unlocked or I'm going to force my way inside," she practically yelled over the now torrential downpour.

She placed her hand on his knob and turned, surprised when she found that it was open. As she stepped over the threshold, she stopped dead in her tracks and gasped loudly, her hands covering her mouth in shock.

A trail of blood littered his bedroom floor that connected his bathroom to his bed. Charlie sat on the edge of his mattress, his bloodied right hand curled against his t-shirt (which also bore red stains), while his head was bent over.

"I don't want to talk," Charlie said with a strained effort, while his temple seemed to be pulsating.

Hermione could tell he was still worked up with what had just happened with Terrance as his form was incredibly tense.

"Just leave me alone, Hermione. I don't want to say anything to you I'm going to regret."

Hermione had half the mind to follow his orders yet something kept her feet rooted to the spot. She continued to look over at Charlie who was glaring at the floor of his room, trying to burn a stain into it.

"Hermione-," Charlie started again however she didn't let him finish.

"Let me see your hand."

"Hermione-,"

"Charlie, I'm not leaving. Now let me see your hand."

When he didn't make any movement, Hermione let out a deep, audible sigh and walked over to him, kneeling in front to make eye contact with his injured first. She took his wrist gently and guided it towards her as her gaze fell upon deep lacerations, tiny glass shards jutting out in random areas, while his pinky and ring finger were bent in an abnormal fashion.

"Where did this glass come from?"

"I punched the washroom mirror," he answered calmly.

If Charlie was hurt, Hermione thought that he was rather collected in this ordeal of pain. Considering the odd way his two fingers were crooked, she thought this was a masterful feat on his part; perhaps he was running on adrenaline.

She brandished her wand and waved it, muttering several different spells that formed a small light blue cloud that swallowed his hand. In the next instant, it disappeared as his cuts and glass fragments had disappeared while his fingers were corrected, sitting in a straight line. Hermione then stood to her feet and pointed her wand at the blood stains on the floor, vanishing them out of existence, before she stepped in the bathroom and saw that his mirror was completely gone, its remaining pieces scattered over the counter and tiled ground. Hermione waved her wand, instantly repairing the mirror and erasing several blood stains along the way.

When she was finished, she nodded her head in satisfaction at her work and then returned to the room to see that Charlie had not moved a muscle from where she had left him.

"Are you still hurt," she asked quietly, worried that maybe she had used the wrong healing spells on his hand.

"I'm fine," he responded curtly, clearly still not in the talking mood.

"Charlie, please don't be like this," her voice begged, taking a seat next to him on his mattress.

"Hermione, did you hear what he said to said to you? Terrance offered you sex, meaning you and him alone, together." His voice ached, she could tell from how he sounded. It was as if Charlie had something ripped away from him, something he prized above everything else, stolen out of his grasp.

"I know what he said," she responded, "but it means nothing to me."

"Well it means something to me," he fired back, his face a mask of agonizing pain. "He can't have you," his half-whispered, half-muttered.

"Charlie, he won't! I'm with you," Hermione remarked incredulously. "Listen, Terrance just found out this morning that he was going to be a father to not one, but two kids! I know that's his own fault but he was having a meltdown. I'm sure he didn't mean most of what he said to us."

Charlie shook his head from left to right. "I think he meant what he said about having sex with you. I saw it in his eyes and I've seen the way he's looked at you before. He just randomly stares at you; he's been doing it more often ever since we came to Wales. I don't know what he's playing at but I don't like it."

"Is that what the punching was about? The way Terrance has been looking at me?"

"That and what he said about you being up the duff."

"I actually never heard of that phrase before," she commented softly. "But I take it that it means that a girl is pregnant."

Charlie nodded gravely, clarifying, "It mainly means an unwanted pregnancy; or that's how Terrance used it anyway." He paused before going on quietly, "Hermione, we didn't use protection, last night or this morning."

Her heart rate began to accelerate like a bullet leaving its chamber, as she asked, enunciating her words carefully, "So does that mean there is a chance that I'm pregnant?"

Charlie looked over at her, swallowed, and nodded again.

Hermione suddenly felt light-headed, her breathing of a faraway and alien notion. Her stomach clenched at the thought at another human literally growing inside of her as she closed her eyes, willing for this swooning sensation to take flight and leave her. The idea of pregnancy never even crossed her mind when she and Charlie partook in their nocturnal activities before.

"But I-I thought a girl couldn't get pregnant the first time," Hermione remarked, her body shaking on its own merit.

"No, a girl can get pregnant the first time, or so I've been told. I don't have any experience with it unless…"

"Unless I am," Hermione finished.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Charlie said, his voice scarred with hurt. "I just wasn't thinking last night…using protection didn't even cross my mind." His shoulders sagged downwards, he deflating with what could be the outcome of he and Hermione's first and second tries.

"Well, that's only if I'm pregnant. There is a chance that I'm not, right?"

"Possibly," he returned, though he didn't sound so sure. "The chances are probably higher than either of us want, having done it two separate times now. The only thing to do now is to wait and see."

She nodded wordlessly in understanding. Though she was screaming inside, a pregnancy possibility now to look out for, Hermione didn't think it would behoove her or Charlie if she expressed her feelings outwardly, crying or cursing what might come. The best thing she could do was remain composed and in control, no matter what was moving within her.

"I'm sorry," came Charlie's voice again.

"You already apologized," she shook off.

"I don't mean for not using protection when making love. I'm sorry for losing my temper like that in front of you."

Hermione paused, her eyes seeing him pummel Terrance's face into a bloody oblivion. "It was scary."

Charlie grabbed her hands in his and moved around to face her. "What Terrance said about you was inexcusable and I'm not sorry for what I did; just that you had to see it. You mean too much to me for me let anyone, no matter if it's my supposed best mate or not, talk down to you like he did. I mean, you're okay, right?"

"I've had people call me names my whole life, ever since I was little. Besides, it's like I said before: Terrance was just caught up in finding out he was going to be a father."

"You're not mad at what he said to you?"

She shrugged. "Not as mad as you. At the end of the day, you're the only one I want to be with, Charlie; you're the only one who matters. I don't care what anyone else thinks or says because it's not important."

He laughed with perplexity, saying, "I wish I was like that. My life would be much more manageable."

"You can do it," she urged. "It just takes a while to build up a strong defense." When he didn't say anything, Hermione questioned next, "So what's going to happen with Terrance?"

"Dunno," he answered truthfully. "We never really had a fist fight before. Who knows what's going to happen next."

Suddenly, a knock was heard on their front door. Hermione and Charlie traded looks, as they both exited his room, made their way down the still darkened hall (the rain still teeming against their roof) as Charlie opened the door, revealing a soaked Terrance, his nose crooked and swelled, while his right eye was bruised and halfway closed; he had small flecks of dried blood that still dotted his face. Charlie instantly pushed Hermione behind him, shielding her from their guest.

"What do you want," Charlie asked, calm yet uninviting.

"Can I come in," he chattered, his body shaking from his water-logged clothes.

"Care to answer my question?"

"I came to apologize even though I don't deserve it," he answered, his voice rising above the falling drops of water.

Charlie waited a long minute, staring hard at Terrance, and just when the latter was about to give up (dipping his head downward and turning around to make his way back through the heavy rain), Charlie relented, "Come in."

Terrance made his way inside while Charlie closed the front door, though he kept Hermione firmly behind him.

"Can I dry myself off," he asked the couple, now trembling uncontrollably as his muscled arms crossed over his chest, doing his best to try and keep warm.

Charlie nodded as Terrance took out his wand, waved it around himself, and was instantly dried.

Pocketing his wand, he faced Charlie, then frowned a bit noticing Hermione's position.

He started, "Listen, what I said back at my place was out of line. I was just so shocked at finding out that I was going to be a father, I couldn't keep my emotions in check. I'm sorry to both of you, for demeaning you, Hermione, and for egging you on, Charlie. I didn't mean any of it and I feel terrible. I know I can't say anything or do anything to make up what happened today and I don't expect your forgiveness. I just wanted to clear the air between the three of us and let both of you know that it's my fault for getting those two girls pregnant and I accept full responsibility for it…but that gave me no right to take it out on you guys.

"I can't say anything more than 'sorry.' I think…I think the root of my problem is seeing how happy you two are together. It makes me wish I had a gal who was trustworthy and smart but above all, someone that cares for me not because of what I look like or for my 'one-night stand philosophy' but for who I am. I'm not a prince and I certainly have horrible qualities that I just can't seem to shake but I'm jealous of what you two share together. It just makes me think that for the rest of my life, I'll continue to shag whatever girl throws herself at me, not thinking about the repercussions until after they occur. I don't think I'll ever find the right match or hell, maybe it doesn't exist for me."

He paused, his eyes looking down at the floor in shame.

Charlie picked up the conversation and stated, "You did before. You told me that you met a girl in Wales and wanted to marry her. You couldn't stay faithful though."

Terrance scoffed and shook his head from left to right. After a moment he said, "She was the one that couldn't stay faithful. She cheated on me with my older brother, Ray."

Although she wasn't facing him, Hermione could tell Charlie had a stunned expression on his face.

After a long, uncomfortable moment, Charlie asked, "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"And say what? My brother bedded the girl I thought I loved behind my back? I would've been the laughing stock of the reserve, even more so than troll-headed Phillip."

At this, Hermione stepped out from behind Charlie and voiced softly yet firmly, "Terrance, I wish you would stop being so rude to Phillip. He's a nice guy. I know you had problems with him in the past, Charlie did too, but now, he's our friend and I don't like when people talk down about him, especially if he's not here to defend himself."

"Okay, okay, I apologize for that too," holding both of his hands up in the air in surrender. Shaking his head again, he continued, "I just didn't want to think about what happened between my brother and that girl. I decided having as much sex as possible would get my mind off of it and it did. Now it's just some bothersome memory that happened some time ago. It's messed up…I'm messed up, I know. Everything bad that happens to me is fully warranted. Anyway, I'm getting a bit off topic. I just came by to tell you I'm sorry," he sighed. "If I could take back what I said earlier, I would. But I can't and that's just something I'll have to live with."

Terrance then nodded once before turning towards the door. Watching his back, Hermione's heart panged with hurt, not knowing his past troubles that still haunted him unto this day. She realized that Terrance carried a heavy load, and didn't want to share his burden with anybody; the problem was he was nearly incapable of carrying it himself. Hermione firmly believed that what Terrance said earlier he didn't mean; the thought of creating two new lives soured him as the full impact of his actions materialized into a brick wall and he slammed into it; yet the reasons for his actions dated back to being burned himself, by a blood relative and a girl he chanced his heart with.

"Terrance," Hermione called out, making him turn to face her. "I forgive you."

He frowned, as he started, "Really, Hermione, I don't deserve it. Especially not after what I said to you."

"Maybe not but I don't want to have what you said to me weighing down on you. We all say things we regret and there are times we wish we could have a do-over but life doesn't offer those luxuries. It takes a lot to apologize, I know, so thanks for that."

Without waiting another minute, Hermione walked up to him and gave him a hug. Terrance stilled, not knowing how to proceed, given what he had said to Hermione not even an hour ago. Then, his form relaxed as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm truly sorry, Hermione," he whispered in her ear. "I don't know how I could ever make this up to you." He kissed her temple.

"Answer me a question," she said, pulling away from him.

"Okay...anything."

"I've noticed that you've been staring at me, more so than usual, ever since we came to Wales. Why?"

Terrance looked at her, not taking his eyes away, answering with total honesty, "Two things: I was curious about your relationship with Phillip, knowing that Charlie didn't like him, although that seems to have changed. Second, I was just looking out for my mate. You're smart, Hermione, and Charlie," he went on, nodding towards him, "he's a good guy. Better than me...a lot better."

Hermione smiled as she looked over her shoulder at Charlie, making him grin at her in return.

"Just try and be nicer to Phillip, please."

"I'll try my best," he conceded.

Charlie then came over, while Hermione moved away. Terrance stuck out his hand but Charlie shook his head and instead, repeated what Hermione had done and slammed him with a bear hug, one that resembled brotherly affection.

When they broke apart, Charlie asked, "Thanks…thanks for coming over. By the way, do you want us to fix you up? Your nose looks broken and your right eye is swelled shut, mate."

"Leave it. I deserve it for what I said. Listen, do you think you two could cover my shift today? I need to take care of this baby business," he stated, looking at them hopefully. "If you guys have other plans, I understand."

Charlie and Hermione exchanged a look, both silently communicating with each other. Hermione then faced Terrance and said, "We'll take it over."

Terrance shot her a friendly smile as Charlie asked, "When is your shift due?"

"From three or four," he answered straight away.

"We'll make do with it," Charlie remarked.

"I can't thank you two enough. You know I don't deserve your forgiveness, right? I'm a terrible guy."

Charlie laughed, responding, "Not terrible; just grossly misunderstood."

"Grossly, huh? I guess that's justified on my end. Anyway, I'm going to get going now. And if anyone asks, just tell them I took a sick day, yeah? I don't fancy people finding out about this baby drama."

"Your secret is safe with us," Hermione relented.

Terrance gave one final nod of his head before waving and then departed from the home, the rain still heavy outside.

"Well, I guess your question about 'what's going to happen with Terrance' has just been answered," Charlie relayed, turning to face Hermione.

"Yeah, I guess there's no more to that," she stated. For Hermione, her morning had started off so well, waking up in the same bed as Charlie, before it plummeted off of a cliff, her mood morphing into one of shock and fright, seeing two best friends trade insults and slugs, only to then rise again as Terrance (with his current disfigured face) came over and apologized. While she carried no burden on the matter, it still felt good to have him express his regret to them over what he said.

"I'm glad he stopped by," Hermione stated.

"Me too although when I first saw him, I felt like punching him all over again. Nothing civil about it, I know, but he did say some pretty awful things."

"That's in the past though," she replied, "it's done."

Charlie nodded his head in agreement as then asked, "We're still on for tonight, right?"

"Do you mean about going to the event taking place in Shadowground?"

"Yeah."

"Of course we're still on for it. Hopefully it'll answer the questions we still have about everything."

"No, not everything, Hermione. Don't you remember what you told me last night back in Amata? You figured out a great deal."

"Yes but I don't know if any of that is true or not. It makes logical sense but maybe those conclusions are wrong."

"It's possible they are," Charlie agreed, taking a step closer to her, "but did you forget that you're a bright witch – the brightest I've ever been with for sure."

Hermione's face broke out in a smile at his endearment, as she laughed softly.

"I guess you're not all that bad yourself," she tossed back, making him chuckle. "Charlie, can I ask you a question?"

He rolled his eyes mockingly, sighing, "If you must."

"It's serious," she said with a smirk, nudging his arm with her hand.

"Okay, okay, what is it?"

"Well, it's the meaning between two words that I thought were the same: sex and making love. Terrance said the first while you said the other."

Charlie let out a shrill whistle, "Going to heavy stuff, huh? I'll explain it to the best of my ability but let's sit."

He led her by the hand to their living area as the both plopped down on the couch, facing one another, Hermione at full attention.

"So to me, sex is simple an act, with no feeling or emotion attached to it. The times I wasn't in a relationship, namely before I met you, I had sex quite a bit but the gals I did it with…," he trailed off and shrugged his shoulders, "they…well, doing it with them made me feel good but the next day, I forgot all about it; there was no lasting impression, so to speak. Making love, on the other hand, is very different in my eyes: it's more than an act. Rather, it's a way to communicate how much you mean to me. Last night was intimate, passionate, and felt like nothing else I experienced before. Making love like we did last night allowed me to express how much I wanted you, Hermione."

"But, wait a second: what about before?"

His brows scrunched together, not comprehending her question.

"What about it?"

"Remember you told me that you met a girl that you thought was the one for you?"

"Yeah."

"Didn't you make love to her? The way you described it sounded like last night was the first time you did it."

"Before, I thought I had 'made love.' But after what I felt yesterday, I realized that with you was my first time. The whole occasion…I mean, I can't even put into words what I was feeling with you. It was just…," Charlie didn't finish, keeping true to making love with Hermione being indescribable; instead, he closed his eyes and shivered, a smile playing on his lips.

"Anyway," he continued after a moment, "there's definitely a big difference between the two. I dunno how it is for girls-,"

"I don't either," Hermione cut in, making Charlie laugh.

"I reckon some if is the same but to other gals, 'sex' equates to 'making love' and vice versa."

"Charlie, you don't think we're moving too fast, do you?"

"You mean with our relationship?"

Hermione nodded. "Terrance has sometimes described us at the 'honeymoon stage.' I know what this means as I asked my mum and dad about it before."

"Well, what would constitute 'fast' in your eyes?"

"We've known each other for a month and a half and we already made love."

"Technically, we've known each other longer than that though."

"Okay, we've known each other more personally for a month a half," Hermione corrected, "and we've already made love. Do you think we might burn out?"

Charlie seemed to consider this for a long moment. He then answered, "I'll put it like this: some people meet each other for the first time and know, that's the one for them – the 'love at first sight' angle. For others, it takes years to realize who the perfect match for them is while everyone else falls between the two extremes. It's true that we haven't known each other on a personal level for that long but I've told you before: you're different from everyone else I've been with. I can't explain the feeling but I know you're the one for me. Last night was something different, I know it was and I'm positive you felt it too. In all honesty though, I'm not worried about us ever burning out."

He finished with a comforting smile, not one of lustful passion, but one that informed her that Charlie would always be there for Hermione, in terms of friendship but also being the man that cherished her, that would continue to treasure her for years to come.

"I mean, you're not burnt out from me already, are you?" Although Charlie posed this as a joke, Hermione detected a small indication of fear collect in his eyes.

"Most definitely not," she answered. "I like you, I like you a lot, Charlie, and you mean a lot to me."

He let out a sigh of relief, as he then inquired, "How much do I mean to you?"

Wordlessly, Hermione shifted into Charlie's lap, taking him by surprise, and put her lips on his.

* * *

Nightfall came and with it, the tapering off of the dull clouds that had been hanging over the Wales Dragon Reserve most of the day, giving way to a purple sunset, as a thick of fume of pink clouds parted the sky in two, while a trail of gold streaked across it, leaving the beginnings of the stars' glimmer in its wake.

Hermione was taking notes on her parchment she kept most of her thoughts stored upon, they becoming too befuddling to keep in her head. She was writing down what she had informed Charlie of the night before at the Burrow, the pieces of the scattered and incredibly confusing puzzle pertaining to Sprought conducting the raid back in Romania, as well as the captured dragon poacher's death by way of the Imperius Curse in order for Sprought's secrets not to be divulged into the light. Of course, this was Hermione's belief and she had no solid evidence to support her theory yet it did make sense when the big picture came into view. However, the mystery surrounding the Victorian Shalers was something she was unable to unearth, if there was anything relating to the newly-discovered dragons and their possibly hypnotic powers.

Hermione mentally sighed as she scratched away one final note after all she had written so far: 'Sprought has inside man working on reserve.'

She remembered how Charlie told her that that was a serious claim to make, especially if it turned out to be true, but more abstract subject matters were beginning to come into focus, making sense of the madness that had befallen it. Hermione was positive that there was someone who works with dragons that is also pairing up with Sprought, perhaps there was even more than one person for all she knew. Yet, the question begged: Who is it?

Just then, a knock was heard upon the front door as Charlie answered it and his voice, coupled with that of Phillip's carried through her open door. Setting down her quill, Hermione exited her room, made her way down the hall, and smiled as she greeted Phillip.

"So ya two patch up whatever Terry was so worked up abou' b'fore," he asked, his eyes darting between she and Charlie.

"Yeah, he came over and apologized actually," Charlie responded with a faint smile.

"Terry apologized?! I don't think he ever did tha' b'fore…at least not tha' I can r'member."

"Yeah, he isn't one to say 'sorry' but everything's fine between us now," Charlie assured.

Phillip nodded then turned to look at Hermione and questioned, "So we're really doing this, aren' we?"

"Phillip, if you're uncomfortable then you don't have to come," Hermione relayed. "In fact, there is a chance that this meeting or event that's taking place at Shadowground might be nothing of importance to us."

"No, no, I want to come," he responded rapidly, "I just never done anything like this. Are we goin' to change our appearances here?"

"No," Hermione replied, "we can't leave the reserve not looking like ourselves, that would be suspicious. Besides, I don't know what the dress code is for this event, being formal or casual."

"I'm thinking it's probably semi-formal at the very least," Charlie supplied. "I mean, a meeting of this caliber doesn't warrant jeans and a t-shirt, which is what we're all pretty much wearing right now."

Hermione chanced a glance around and saw that Charlie was correct in assessing their garments.

"Well, that won't matter; it's an easy fix," she suggested.

"By way of my mum, right?"

"Exactly." They two then smiled at each other, momentarily forgetting that they had a third guest with them.

"Ahem," Phillip coughed loudly, jerking the pair out of their gaze-matching contest. "Shall we get goin' then?"

Several moments later, Hermione, Charlie, and Phillip appeared just before the bridge connecting the slab of rock in which Fauella sat upon and the mainland. Hermione grabbed her two companions by the arm and led them to the outskirts of the woods that were situated before the overpass so they were not to be seen.

By now, the sky had darkened into a midnight blue, as small glittering stars became more pronounced overhead. Beyond the bridge, Hermione saw people apparating near Shadowground, entering into its open doors, having a brilliant abundance of light spill out of the building, making it a bright night. The rest of Fauella seemed deserted, masking something of a ghost town that had been left for ruin. Charlie had informed Hermione earlier that most of the stores in the small wizarding village were closed on Sundays.

"It appears to be somewhat formal, don't it," Phillip suddenly voiced.

Hermione peered down the overpass and saw that his evaluation was indeed correct as she eyed the two men now entering inside.

"But I don't think we're going to get in; everyone is giving some sort of card to the guys at the front door," Charlie erected.

"Do you think it's an invitation," Hermione asked, a feeling of failure seeping through her, as she had not thought of this obstruction.

"Possibly," Charlie returned, "but even if it's not, we have nothing to give at the door."

"Come so far, yet so far to go," Phillip muttered, disbelief etched within his features.

"Hang on," Hermione stated, making the duo turn towards her. "There still might be another way in."

Charlie and Phillip traded looks of bewilderment before the former said, "And what are you thinking about?"

"The Disillusionment charm," she answered. "It'll have us blend into our surroundings."

"Ya know how to cast tha'?"

"Well I've never done it before on people," she responded, "but I know the theory behind it."

Charlie was staring over at her, deep in thought, while Phillip looked rather unsure if this undertaking was worth the risk behind it.

"Doesn't the charm wear off after a while," Charlie inquired.

"It does so that means that we won't have long."

"Well maybe we only need the charm just to get in the door," Phillip readied, "after we're in, it possibly won't matter."

"But what happens if this sort of meeting has been taking place for some time," Charlie challenged. "Three random new people showing up will bring questions that we probably won't be able to answer. I think the Disillusionment charm is our safest option to use."

"I ain't got no problem with it," he said, holding up his right hand and waving it in a haphazard way.

"Okay," Hermione readied, stepping closer to Phillip, brandishing her wand. "If it's alright, let's do this now."

After seeing him nod once, Hermione tapped his head with her wand; she then repeated this notion with Charlie afterwards. Before her, she saw that their bodies immediately disappeared, only barely visible to the naked eye if it were to look closely enough. She smiled in satisfaction, gratified that she performed this in the correct manner. She then twirled her wand around her own body, making herself mingle in with the trees behind her.

"Ya did a good job, 'Mione," Phillip exclaimed, though she could not see him all that well; his voice sounded off with a chilly, night breeze.

"She didn't get eleven O.W.L.s for nothing," Charlie cast over, another body she could no longer see.

"Eleven O.W.L.s," Phillip nearly shouted. "Tha's borderline genius, tha' is!"

Hermione could feel herself blush but she shook her head of his compliment and said, "Thanks but we should get going before the charm wears off."

"How long do you reckon we have," came the voice of Charlie.

"I don't know for certain," she answered, as she started to make her way across the bridge (she could feel Charlie and Phillip flanking both of her sides), pulling past the two stone Welsh Dragons, "but the effects wear off slowly. So after the first hour, our feet might appear or a lock of our hairs; afterwards, more and more of ourselves will start reappearing until we're fully visible."

"Well I don't think we should be here that long; at least we shouldn't expect to stay the entire time. If it's nothing of importance, I say we leave right away," Charlie said.

"I agree," Phillip concurred, "I don't really have a good feeling 'bout this."

While Hermione didn't say so, she sensed that Phillip was on target.

The trio, with their camouflaged selves, continued to walk across the bridge towards Fauella, the waters below them churning small wave peaks with the blowing wind. The air around them grew distinctly colder while the sky burned off its midnight blue and bled to black, the stars up above now representing stilled diamonds, glued to the dim canopy out of reach as it stretched over them. The green and white tiles that made up the dome of Shadowground were lost on sight, though its dark red, symmetrical façade cast an eerie glow at them.

The only signs that Charlie and Phillip were beside her was the casual scuffling of their shoes or their deep breaths they took in and let out.

Closer and closer they walked, the light spilling out of the opened doors of Shadowground while the two men were ever watchful.

Hermione counted six people that entered into the massive building whilst she was walking across the overpass, all of them donning black dinner jackets paired with jeans.

After making their way across the bridge, Hermione instinctively grabbed Charlie's hand; it took her a few tries but she finally managed. She also reached out and grabbed Phillip's.

"Let's go," she whispered, "and let's stay together."

"I wouldn't leave you even if you told me to," came Charlie's undertone.

"I'll be with ya the entire time," murmured Phillip.

The trio then proceeded to walk up towards Shadowground, Hermione's heart hammering within her chest, beating like it was its own orchestra arrangement. She kept her eyes trained on the two guards, prepared for either one of them to notice that three interlopers were trying to infiltrate this supposed 'secret' meeting or event of sorts, firing off a series of hexes and curses which would incapacitate them. However, the two men standing guard didn't notice them, as they quietly made their way through the entrance of Shadowground, stepping into a grand hall full of white light.

The first thing Hermione eyed when stepping inside was the massive under-dome, its surface painted with, what she perceived as famous witches and wizards since the Medieval Era to a recent past. Some of the painted wizards held swords, battling what looked like the most savage of dragons while many of the witches wielded their own wands, bright colors protruding from them.

As her eyes fell away from the under-dome, Hermione noticed that the main hall of Shadowground was laid in gold tile, with allusions of velvet streaked across them. Twelve towering white columns bordered the atrium as she noticed that behind each of these pillars, a series of brown doors were plastered against the side walls, leading off to different rooms Shadowground hosted.

"Over there," whispered Charlie, pulling Hermione towards her right (as she then pulled Phillip along as well) as the second-oldest Weasley son led them between two of the soaring columns as she then spotted an open door; she counted six other closed doors on either side of their open one.

After stepping over the threshold, Hermione nearly gasped aloud, as she squeezed Charlie and Phillip's hand with a mighty amount of force. The reason for this was that she immediately spotted Sprought; he was situated at the end of a long, polished brown table, as he occupied a chair that looked as if it came from the throne of a true king. He was under a single spotlight that originated from the darkened rafters above. And while Hermione knew that Sprought was evil, on this night, he looked particularly wicked. He donned plain black robes, while his steel grey eyes flecked with spots of yellow seemed to blaze. His elbow was resting upon one of the fancy chair's arm, his black cloak revealing his bony wrist and arm, as he was spinning a small object Hermione couldn't detect between his overly-long, skeleton-like fingers.

She then looked around the room they were in yet couldn't perceive how big it was for the sole light in the room was focused on Sprought. Men were positioned all around the polished table, though no women were in attendance. The sides of the room faded into the shadows, making Hermione think that someone or something lurked within it. It was eerie to say the least as this meeting, the term more appropriate than 'event,' was modeled as if Sprought was leading a plot of a high-ranking official's murder. Any chance of easily spotting Director Mulligan or Terrance was going to be difficult, if it was even doable at all.

Outside of the room, two doors slammed shut, making Hermione jump and squeezing the hands of both Charlie and Phillip. Moments later, the two men that stood guard outside of Shadowground entered into the room they were all in, slamming its door closed, trapping the trio inside.

"Welcome my friends, welcome to the very first official meeting of the Nocturnal League in Wales," Sprought suddenly said, his voice a cool mist watering exposed skin. He did not stand up from this throne-like chair when he spoke; instead, he rested against its high back and looked around at the faces of the men who were made to stand in his presence.

"Tonight's meeting will be short and swift as I intend to give you all an update on our beauties, the Victorian Shalers and how they are adapting to this new environment of theirs," he continued on, his voice ringing around the room. "I am happy to announce that the fools on the Wales Dragon Reserve have been enamored by the Shalers aurora, yet more attentive workers perceive that something isn't exactly on point with the dragons themselves. No matter, no matter, I am still confident that they are unable to identify the meaning of the Shalers' actual existence."

'The meaning of the Shalers actual existence,' Hermione mentally repeated, trying to make sense of those words strung together, yet she could not do so.

"Now, I called you here tonight, the leaders of your individual Nocturnal Leagues, because a new Victorian Shaler is nearly ready, due in two weeks worth of time. This third egg will go to the Romanian Dragon Reserve. Harris," Sprought addressed, looking on his left at a face Hermione could not see that was standing on one side of the polished table, "is everything ready for Romania?"

The man named Harris cleared his voice and answered clearly, "Yes, we have seven of our own men placed on the reserve there. They are ready for the Victorian Shaler."

"Good, good," Sprought mused. "As you know from past meetings, we plan to have one to two Victorian Shalers on each dragon reserve around the world. I don't need to tell you but our group, the Nocturnal League, is the biggest poacher network known in the wizarding community. The fact that we are able to breed these Shalers from the blood of a slew of dragons makes us the absolute best at our craft. Despite a minor slip that occurred back in Romania last month, our ranks are stronger and bigger than ever before."

"Excuse me, Mr. Sprought," a man suddenly voiced.

Sprought turned his attention on him and asked, "What is it, Yen?"

"Where is the Wales representative of the Nocturnal League," Yen questioned. "I noticed that he is not here today."

"I don't remember granting you the authority to besmirch other members of the Nocturnal League based upon given absences."

"Forgive me, Mr. Sprought," Yen apologized, Hermione barely seeing that he bowed his head.

"As it is, our Wales representative was unable to participate in tonight's function, but that is of another matter," Sprought went on, his grey eyes suddenly flashing a dangerous yellow before disappearing.

"May I intervene, Mr. Sprought," the man named Harris spoke up again in an overly polite manner.

"If it is of vital importance," he allowed.

"Well, you said that there are some workers that perceive something isn't correct pertaining to the Victorian Shalers. I gather that these are people I have worked with before, being that the handlers who were employed in Romania were transferred over to Wales," Harris said.

"And what point are you trying to make," Sprought asked in a forced calm, though his eyes told a different story.

"Should we be warned of these workers?"

Sprought didn't answer straight away though he glared over at Harris, as if his interruption was unwarranted and a waste of time. Hermione glanced around and saw that all the men positioned around the polished table were zeroed in on Sprought. Hermione felt Charlie squeeze her hand though she didn't register what he wanted.

"I don't see the point in releasing those names, Harris, but I also don't see the harm in doing so either," Sprought relented after several beats. "They are Charles Weasley, Hermione Granger, Phillip Soren, and your precious director, Mulligan. They are true threats to our operation as I am thinking of giving due clause to have them…forcibly removed…permanently."

"Do you mean death," Harris queried.

"More or less," Sprought answered, increasing Hermione's heart rate two-fold. "Azkaban Prison seems to be our safest option, yet Miss Granger seems incredibly detailed; after all, her story is legend with the famous Potter, with whispering rumors of her brainpower being their biggest advantage. Yes, I don't think Azkaban will be enough to hold her…death may be her only alternative. Unconventional by our standards yet necessary for her."

Hermione thought that she was going to faint; she felt as if she was on the outside of her body looking in on Sprought casually informing this Nocturnal League that she was going to be put to death. She started shaking, so much so that she didn't realize that both of her hands were being compressed by both Charlie and Phillip. What was her life's value if it opposed to this poacher network? Was it so infinite that her demise was nothing but casual talk? It was then that Hermione wanted to no longer be here; instead, she wanted to run, run as far as her legs would take her yet her feet stood rooted to the floor.

"That matter, however, will be discussed at a later time, when our Wales representative is in attendance. He seems to have a strong inclination towards Weasley and Granger," Sprought addressed in a bored tone. "Now, our next meeting will take place in two weeks at the same time and place. It will be then that the third Victorian Shaler egg will be given out and presented, while we'll also discuss what to do with Weasley, Granger, Soren, and that fool, Mulligan. I call this Nocturnal League meeting adjourned at," Sprought paused and waved his wand, producing the time of night to appear in the air in a cloud of red smoke, "eight p.m."

* * *

It was sometime later that Charlie, Hermione, and Phillip entered back into the former two's home. They were quiet, processing information they retrieved from the meeting (which wasn't as much as they had hoped) while also taking in what Sprought wanted to do with them, namely Hermione.

"Hermione-," Charlie started but she lightly shook her head at him, as the three sat around the kitchen table. He licked his lips but nodded anyway.

"First things first," she stated, her voice shaking slightly from the nerves that were still bouncing around inside of her, "the Victorian Shalers."

"Wha' 'bout them," Phillip asked.

"The dragons...they...they aren't real," Hermione issued out. "Remember what Sprought said? The Shalers are bred from the blood of different dragons."

"Bu' how could they not be real," Phillip replied. "We've seen them with our own eyes!"

"I think what Hermione means," Charlie intervened, "is that the Victorian Shalers are created by human hands; they're not natural."

"Is tha' even possible?"

"I don't think anyone's ever thought of it but it seems so."

"Bu' why? Wha' is the point of creating a dragon?"

"So they could control it," Hermione answered. "This Nocturnal League is a poacher network. The Victorian Shalers have some sort of hypnosis powers, Charlie and I have seen it first hand with Terrance in the Brazilian Bastion pen."

"Do you think these powers came with the mixing of different dragons blood," Charlie questioned. "Because no dragon I've ever heard of has sleep-inducing talents like that."

"I don't know, but maybe. We have to go to London and warn Minister Shacklebolt about Sprought."

"Couldn't we just go to Director Mulligan," Charlie posed.

"He would still go to the Shacklebolt though," Hermione responded back. "Sprought is the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister; he's a high-ranking official."

"There's only one problem though: what evidence do we have," Charlie supplied. "It'll be our word against the Senior Undersecretary's. This Nocturnal League seems to be bigger than just several random poachers put together; it's an entire network of people."

"What about the next meeting," Hermione positioned. "Sprought said that the next one will take place in two weeks. That'll be our evidence; we can infiltrate it again."

Charlie thought this over before he nodded in agreement. "That could work."

After a moment of quiet, Phillip rang out, "Char, did you notice Harris?"

"I did," he answered gravely.

"Harris," Hermione repeated. "Phillip, is that the work who you've been in correspondence with? The one who told you that Director Mulligan was obsessed with the house in the woods?"

Phillip eyed Hermione for a long beat before he nodded his head. So Harris, though she had never met him, was part of this Nocturnal League too. Along with-

"The Wales representative was missing tonight," Hermione voiced aloud, looking first at Phillip who nodded his head while Charlie gazed over at her.

"And it's someone who knows us," Charlie added gravely.

The couple stared at each other for a long time, each lost in their own thoughts, until Hermione gasped loudly. It was then that everything fit together: the house in the woods and the parchment she and Charlie found inside it, the murder of the captured dragon poacher back in St. Mungo's, Wormey, his absence at tonight's meeting due to personal matters...

"Terrance," Hermione shuddered, "Terrance is the inside man. He works with Sprought."


	25. The Jackal's Reprieve

A/N: Hello all! I know I said that this story will contain 27 chapters, but while writing this one, I found that things were too rushed if I kept to those 27 chapters. Therefore, there will now be 28 chapters in my story. I hope you are enjoying it and thanks for reading!

* * *

Chapter 25: The Jackal's Reprieve

Minister Shacklebolt was looking over at Hermione and Charlie with a penetrating stare; his fingers were clasped together at their tips under his chin, as if dissecting what they had just told him. Hermione stared back, not in defiance, but rather imploring for him to believe them.

The couple took advantage of their day off from work to visit London to inform the Minister of Magic what his Senior Undersecretary, Sprought, was up to – from Hermione's drawn conclusions of him orchestrating the murder of the captured dragon poacher to the meeting that was held the evening previous. The duo had bypassed Director Mulligan, not seeing him on the reserve before they set out, while Phillip remained behind due to his Monday responsibilities. As it was, the pair also spotted Terrance, who gave them an amiable, early-morning wave, which they returned (Hermione told Charlie that they had to keep up with their appearance of being close friends with him if they were to bring down the Nocturnal League from the inside).

"I must say to you Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley that this is a very serious claim to make," Kingsley insisted, chiming off the number of 'serious claims' Hermione has come across since accepting a position in working with dragons.

"I know," she returned, "but Charlie and I wouldn't lie about something like this; there would be no reason for us to. We both saw with our own eyes that Sprought was heading this, what he called, Nocturnal League."

"Which is a large poacher network, is that correct?"

"That's right," she replied back.

"And you say that this has something to do with the newly-discovered Victorian Shalers, yes?"

"That's correct, minister," Charlie answered. "By what Sprought was saying, it seemed as if the Victorian Shalers were manufactured by human hands."

"I assume you two have unearthed conclusions as to why these beasts are of a human touch?"

"Yes," Hermione responded, tucking a stray curl behind her ear absent-mindedly. "Before the Wales Dragon Reserve was opened, Charlie and I read over notes that were taken by Director Mulligan and sent to us about these particular dragons. From it, we gathered that their behavior was abnormal for their own kind. For example, Charlie told me that dragons are very territorial creatures yet the Victorian Shalers prefer the company of them, rather than humans. Also, when they beat their wings, the circular pattern on them spins around," Hermione then paused at this, wondering if what she said next will throw Kingsley off his guard. "Well, when that happens, some sort of hypnosis takes over whoever the Shaler is focused upon, being another dragon or a human; this renders them to fall asleep. It all makes sense when it's put together: this large poacher network breeds this special type of dragon that allows it to put other beasts to sleep. By the way Sprought was talking last night, it seemed as if multiple men of the Nocturnal League were part of this operation and stationed on every reserve. When a dragon was incapacitated by the Shaler, they could go in and harvest its scales."

Kingsley didn't outwardly react to these pieces of information though he seemed to be digesting it with a frown.

Ever since infiltrating the Nocturnal League's meeting the previous night at Shadowground, an unsettling and rather disturbing feeling had spread throughout her, staring from the base of her heart before swimming up to her head and cascading down to the tips of her toes. It was a forbidding feeling, one that masqueraded a vile act that was sure to come.

"These hypnosis powers," the minister began, testing every word before it left him, "they were not documented in the notes Director Mulligan gave you?"

"No," Charlie said, "nothing about them were there. Two of our own handlers, Reyville and Cope, experienced being incapacitated while Hermione and I observed it with our own two eyes, when one of the Brazilian Bastions, a species of dragons we keep on the reserve in Wales, fell victim. We don't know for sure if these sleep-inducing powers are what we think they are, but the pieces do add together."

A pause then interwove itself amongst the conversation being had in the minister's office, one in which thoughts spelled out into confusion and guesswork.

"There's also something else that goes against the Victorian Shaler being an actual dragon," Hermione inserted, "as of being one that was created by humans."

"And what would that be, Miss Granger?"

"Well, on both reserves, in Romania and Wales, there is a map of the individual pens that tells us where each beast is. One day, one of the Victorian Shaler newborns escaped into the campgrounds but we couldn't see it on the map anywhere. Terrance, one of our co-workers," Hermione continued on, seeing Charlie visibly tense out of the corner of her eye at the mention of his name, "and Director Mulligan said that the chart was designed by the Ministry of Magic as a magical contract of sorts. All true dragons, therefore, are displayed on the map but the Victorian Shaler never made an appearance."

Kingsley sighed, unclasping the tips of his fingers to instead rub them against his temples, giving them a much needed massage; his eyes closed under the comforting feeling.

"What a debacle this turned out to be," he sang out lowly, his vocal chords rumbling about. "Well, quickly assessing over everything you have told me thus far, I have to say that we cannot detain Senior Undersecretary Sprought without evidence."

"There is something though," Charlie piped in, quickly glancing over at Hermione before turning his gaze towards the Minister.

"And what would that be, Mr. Weasley?"

"At the meeting last night, Sprought said that their next one will be held in two weeks, the same time and place, in which the third Victorian Shaler egg will be given out to a worker named, Harris; he works on the Romanian Dragon Reserve. Sprought said that he planned to have one to two Shalers on every dragon reserve across the wizarding community. Attending the meeting would be supply more than enough evidence against him."

Kingsley seemed to think this tidbit over in the mind, his brown eyes wandering around his office, skirting over the surface of his rather disorderly desk.

"How do you two feel about assigning aurors up for this task - researching Sprought and his Nocturnal League?"

Hermione and Charlie traded looks before the latter said, "With all due respect to the Auror Department, this poacher network has to be shut down as soon as possible. I think opening a full investigation just on Sprought alone would take too long. I mean, he was the one who questioned Hermione, Terrance, and I about what happened back in Romania with the dragon poachers who attacked us, and if he really is in charge of those men, I don't think an inquiry was ever opened on that matter."

Kingsley issued out a long breath, his head shaking slowly from side to side.

"This is my fault," he mused, his gaze glued on his messy tabletop. "I was the one who appointed him to his current position when he clearly was unfit to lead within the Ministry itself."

Hermione could think of nothing to reply with, so she opted to remain silent, her mouth though had since morphed into a grim line.

"I guess the best thing I could do then," he went on, "is to rectify what needs to be done, find proof of his criminal deeds, and have him arrested. Two weeks time, you said, until the next meeting?"

"Two weeks," Charlie confirmed with a curt nod.

"And am I correct in saying that you two will remain on the Wales Dragon Reserve until that time?"

"We have a few places to stop by today, but other than that, yes," the second-oldest Weasley son said.

"Then we'll be in correspondence throughout the time until the next function," the Minister relayed. "Until then, take care to look after yourselves; by what you told me, Senior Undersecretary Sprought clearly is a dangerous human being, someone who distinctly flew under my radar."

"Um, Minister," Charlie started, making the slowly-aging wizard look over at him. "Hermione and I need to go back to Romania sometime this afternoon and we were wondering if it would be appropriate to ask you for a portkey."

Kingsley appraised his words with an unreadable expression, before he issued out, "Does this have anything to do with Sprought and the Nocturnal League?"

"Yes," Hermione and Charlie coupled together.

"On a regular basis, I would refer you two to check-in with Mr. McGill but seeing that time is rather of the essence," he paused, opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a Muggle spark plug. "Arthur, or excuse me, your father, gave this to me as a birthday present some time ago," he supplied as a way of explanation with a slight grin.

Charlie smiled as Kingsley went on, "He certainly has a rather peculiar obsession with these things. Anyway, this time, I'll make an exception." The minister then whipped out his wand, pointed it at the spark plug and said, " _Portus_." The object momentarily glowed a bright blue before the color disappeared completely. "Whenever you are ready to head over, tap this with your wand three times and clearly enunciate the name of your destination. When you are prepared to return home, you do the same thing."

"Thank you, Minister," Hermione said sincerely, as he handed Charlie the spark plug across his desk.

"Miss Granger, I believe I asked you some time ago to refer to me as 'Kingsley', isn't that right?"

A delicate pink sprouted over her cheeks as the Minister of Magic then turned to Charlie and said, "Same goes for you, Mr. Weasley. Your father and I go some ways back."

"Of course, Kingsley," he responded with a friendly nod.

"Well, on your way, then! Remember, I'll be in direct correspondence over the next two weeks."

With that, Hermione and Charlie departed from his office, with Charlie clutching the spark plug in a closed fist.

* * *

The couple, deciding that they should have a spot of lunch before leaving for Romania, apparated to the Burrow, and was surprised to find Harry there, standing some yards away from the Weasley shed, as he apparently just sent, what looked like to Hermione, a white wall towards it with his wand.

"Harry," Hermione called out, making him spin so suddenly that she heard his back crack in several places.

"Hermione!" His bright green eyes grew wide while a confused look crossed over his features. "What're you doing here?"

She and Charlie walked over to him, unbeknownst that they were hand-in-hand, as Hermione remarked, "I could ask you the same thing."

"Ron and I usually stop by the Burrow on our lunch breaks," he answered while shrugging his shoulders, nodding over towards Charlie who returned it.

Hermione looked around and then said, "You and Ron? I don't see him around."

With that, Harry chuckled and pointed, "Ron's in the shed."

Hermione looked over at Charlie to see if he comprehended what exactly was going on though it seemed that he was just as confused as she felt. It was as if they had stepped onto a plain, fixated under an alternate reality.

"Um, is there a reason why he's in there," Hermione then questioned, felling her brows pull together.

"It's a defense spell I'm practicing," he returned. "Remember I wrote to you a week or so ago, telling you that we were going to start defense in Auror training?"

Hermione racked her brain, sifting through everything that had happened over the past several days, and nodded her head.

"Oh, now I remember."

"What spell were you practicing," Charlie inquired. "Was it that white wall?" When Harry nodded, Charlie commented, "I've never seen that before."

"It's called the Prism Theorem; it's fairly new," he clarified.

"How does it work," Hermione queried.

"Well, if we are trying to sneak attack rogue Death Eaters, for instance, we could use the Prism Theorem which keeps the Death Eaters in a confined building they were initially in," he told them, his eyes hooking down to their interlaced hands.

"It only works on a building," Hermione caught on, interested in this new security mechanism.

"Yes, that's one of its drawbacks: the spell only works on actual structures and not on general areas. So if there were Death Eaters in the Forbidden Forest, the Prism Theorem wouldn't function properly."

Suddenly, several _booms_ were heard from nearby, the thumping coming from the direction of the Weasley shed.

"Okay Harry, I think that's enough practice. Now let me out," bellowed Ron from inside, another ensemble of _booms_ sounding off.

Harry flicked his wand before he yelled, "Okay, it's off now!"

Upon opening the door, Ron began, "Bilmey, Harry, you would think that-," he however, stopped short when his eyes fell on the couple.

"Hermione! Charlie! What're you doing here?!"

"We're actually here for a spot of lunch," Charlie responded, gently tugging Hermione towards the Burrow along with him. "We're also on a bit of a schedule though so we should get along now."

"Wait up," Ron called out, "we'll join you; I'm starving!"

The four then walked side-by-side under a clear, blue sky; the great ball of fire called the sun hanging over them, procuring a hotter-than-normal September heat. In a closer range, several birds sang to each other, before taking flight from a random tree and flying away while a wind, void of any coolness, rushed over them, temporarily ruffling their clothes over their bodies.

"Ron, shouldn't you be at the joke shop," Hermione suddenly asked, piercing the silence that had befallen the group.

He looked over at her as he responded, "I haven't told mum yet about quitting the training. To keep up with appearances, I have to have lunch when Harry does or else it would look suspicious."

"Well you are going to tell her, aren't you," Hermione nearly scolded back. "Harry and I told you last time that you can't keep this up for a long time."

"Keep your nose down, Hermione! I just got to come up with a plan and then I'll tell her."

"Has any sort of plan come to mind?"

"No."

"Are you trying to come up with a plan?"

"Sort of."

"Sort of," Hermione and Harry shouted in unison, making Charlie smirk.

"Shhh! Are you two mental?! What if mum heard you," Ron hushed over, his face growing a dark red as his eyes darted towards his upcoming home.

"Ron," Harry started in an annoyed tone, "you told me that things were coming together for you!"

Ron looked around, avoiding the penetrating stares he was receiving as he said in quiet tone, "Things kind of got tossed around."

"What does that mean," Hermione questioned in a voice that eerily resembled Mrs. Weasley.

Ron sighed, and said, avoiding Hermione's inquiry, "I'll think of something…don't worry."

Dropping the subject matter for the time being, Hermione silently huffed as she unknowingly squeezed Charlie's hand. He repeated her action, making her look up at him. He traded over a comforting smile, one that rustled about the butterflies in her stomach, before she realized their hands were still clasped together. After a moment of shock, she disentangled their fingers, shooting him a ' _How could we forget?_ ' look while the tips of ears glowed red.

The party then entered the kitchen, as incredible whiffs of food scents entered into their nostrils, making their stomachs rumble with impatience.

Mrs. Weasley turned from the stove. When she spotted Charlie and Hermione, surprise fitted her features nicely before they relaxed and exclaimed, "Charlie…Hermione! I wasn't expecting you at all! What are you doing back?"

"It's our day off," Charlie answered, as he was wrapped in a massive hug from his mum; Hermione was attended to next.

"Why didn't you write? A small note would've been fine, too!"

"It's just a quick lunch, mum," he said, as he sat next to Hermione, while Harry and Ron took seats across from them. "We actually have to head out soon."

"Where," Ron spoke up.

"Just work-related activities," shrugged Charlie.

It was if by some unspoken token that she and Charlie decided to keep what was going on with Sprought, the Victorian Shalers, and the Nocturnal League under wraps. Explaining everything to just his mum would cause massive hysteria, as Hermione wouldn't put it past her to lock the two of them in his room to shield them from any harm that was due to come by becoming ensnared by dangerous affairs. She took his covert response as a cue to not let anything slip up.

Not even a minute later however, all sorts of food floated in front of them as their lunch began. Conversation flowed easily enough, as Mrs. Weasley was quite invested in the Prism Theorem, though Hermione noticed that she restlessly drilled Ron over it; he, having not much knowledge over the method, resounded to heaving vast amounts of meat into his mouth to avoid having to answer, choking several times along the way.

Hermione tried to calm herself throughout the meal (after all, she was surrounded by her best friends and her boyfriend in a home she considered second nature to her) yet tingles of nerves kept darting through her system, striking a chord in her stomach, bouncing off of her heart, before jolting a fresh round of goose bumps than ran down her arm. Calming breaths didn't help nor was the fact that she (and Charlie) had to keep masks of perfection plastered over their faces to shield any probing questions that might lead to an open wound of lies and foreboding consequences.

After lunch was finished, Harry and Ron bade their farewells while Mrs. Weasley noted that she meant to run into Diagon Alley for a new cookbook: _Weldra Wanderstaff and her Magic of Baked Goods_ _and Pastries._

"Take care, my dear," Mrs. Weasley said, fussing over Charlie, inspecting him for new burns that she may have missed upon his unexpected entrance before.

"Mum, please," he breathed out, as she squeezed him in a hug again, making him roll his eyes over her at Hermione, who in turn had to twist away from breaking out into bouts of laughter.

"And you, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley then focused upon, "please be safe! I always used to worry just over Charlie, but now I have you as well!"

"Don't worry, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione stalled, "we'll both be safe, Charlie and I."

The Weasley matriarch took a step back and looked over her son and Hermione once more, her eyes glossing over.

"I know you two take good care of each other but a mother always worries. Somebody I'm sure you'll understand." And with that, she smiled and apparated away with a quiet _pop_.

Hermione turned towards Charlie who in turn quirked up one brow at her.

"Did she just say what I think she said," Hermione sounded off, her dealings with everything-related Sprought momentarily forgotten.

In exchange, Charlie folded Hermione into his arms and kissed the top of her head, taking a lungful of air as if he longed to partake in that respective act for a long time.

"My mum sometimes speaks cryptically; it drives me up the wall when she does."

Hermione giggled, her cheek splattered against his chest.

The two then stood there, in the middle of the kitchen, huddled against one another. Hermione closed her eyes and thought that his chest was a rather comfortable sleeping position; she might have to try it one day soon.

"So what happens now," she voiced, hating to perturb the hush that had swept over them in a delicate deafness.

"We go to Romania," he said simply.

"Do you think Wormey will answer our question?"

"I dunno; he didn't seem exactly thrilled about speaking of his past family when we first met up, did he?"

"No, he didn't at all. But this is the final piece, I'm sure of it." Hermione pulled away from Charlie and stared into his bright blue eyes.

Slowly, the couple then drew together and folded their lips over one another's; it was a sweet indication of what they meant to each other and what they felt for each other. Passion simmered in Hermione's heart, she wanting nothing more than to spend the day with Charlie, worrying about nothing…just enjoying his company. She felt that their time as a couple had been marred in a spin of lies, deceit, and betrayal, warping past individual commitments into a realm of uncovering a truth she had not ever known was as big as it apparently is.

They then pulled apart, Charlie recapturing her lips with a quick peck.

Smiling, he said, "Let's go."

Before she could nod her head though, a dawning resolution suddenly consumed her. Her hold on Charlie's hand instantly strengthened though she wasn't aware of it. The Prism Theorem…she had seen it before…the wall of white light. It was a recent occurrence though she couldn't pinpoint the exact time or location of when she had first seen it.

"Hermione, are you okay," came the sound of Charlie's voice, though it sounded miles away, liking a sinking ship was to a lighthouse.

Taking over a quiet beat, she uttered as if in a dream-like state, "The Prism Theorem…it's familiar."

"You've seen it before?"

"Yes but…-," she stopped before gasping aloud, making Charlie grab her shoulders as he looked deep into her brown eyes.

"What is it?" His voice was one of anxiety and trepidation.

"Terrance…he used it back in Romania!"

"What? When?"

Hermione swallowed, making herself take a deep breath before she plunged on, "The night the poachers came onto the reserve. We were chasing them on broomsticks over to Woan and I saw him send a white wall over to the flats where the rest of the workers were."

Charlie dropped his hands away as he turned sideways, peering over at nothing specific while his mind worked at what she had just told him.

"You sure it was the same thing," he finally managed to ask.

"I've never seen a spell that issues out a white wall," she nodded, confirming her theory. "I forgot about it until just now; seeing Harry practice the Prism Theorem reminded me of it."

Charlie let out a heavy sigh, it being weighed down from several boulders, as he sat back in his seat he occupied during lunch. His put his head in his hands, rubbing it over as if he was trying to remove war paint from its surface. Hermione sat down beside him and put both of her hands on his arm in a comforting gesture, as he looked stressed beyond a maximum.

"You know, ever since last night, I tried to convince myself that we made a mistake in pinpointing Terrance as the inside man. He's my best mate and I just didn't want to believe it. Hate it as I may, the strikes are adding up against his supposed innocence. I just feel…I dunno…betrayed I guess. I knew him for such a long time; we were at Hogwarts together, we started work together, but now, he's like a stranger to me. It kinda hurts; it's like our friendship was built on a pile of lies and nothing more."

"There's something else too," she commented with a heavy heart, making Charlie whip his head over to her.

"What is it?"

"Back before Director Mulligan, you, and I went back to Romania to bring back the Romanian Longhorn, I saw a slip of parchment fall from Terrance's hospital bed in St. Mungo's. If it's true, that he is Sprought's inside man, then he would also know about the house in the woods. Do you remember that we found the piece of parchment in there with its corner missing?"

Charlie suddenly slammed his first upon the kitchen table hard, startling Hermione.

"Damn it! How could I have not seen it before?!"

"Charlie, what are you talking about?"

He turned towards her, his eyes nearly a blue fire, as he said, "The parchment that we found in the house in the woods…it was a quill order, remember?" As she nodded her head, he continued, "Terrance's father owns his own quill factory! I think I told you this back in Woan."

Hermione stared over at Charlie, feeling her jaw hanging open.

"But what would a quill order be doing there? That doesn't make any sense."

Charlie shook his head from side to side, replying with, "I have no idea but that slip of parchment you saw fall from Terrance's bed is most likely the missing corner of that order. He is definitely the one; he and I dunno even know how many others. This is…-," he scoffed, "this is crazy, absolutely mental." After a slight pause, he stated, "You know, at this point I wouldn't be surprised if the Wriley's were the former owners of Wormey."

"I think they were," Hermione agreed. "Phillip told us that Wormey knew Sprought, so if Terrance is his inside man, everything fits. All we need is a confirmation on it."

"Hermione, I'm sorry this has been so messed up, with everything. It isn't fair to you."

"Charlie, you don't have to apologize for anything. It's not your fault that dragon poachers exist or that this Nocturnal League is what it is! You don't have to blame yourself." When he didn't look convinced, she took a different approach of placing her hands on both of his cheeks and making him look at her. "I'm not sorry that I took up a position in working with dragons. If I never did, you and I probably wouldn't be sitting here trying to figure out this mystery together. I know it's dangerous, especially with what Sprought said last night about us, but I wouldn't want to be anywhere else than right beside you."

Charlie's face broke out into a warm smile, in what resembled relief, as he responded, "You're amazing, you know that? I'm glad you took part in deciding to work with dragons and that we're here together right now. If it wasn't for everything else going on, I would wager that this would be a perfect afternoon."

He then wrapped his arms around her again, pulling her against his hard body, burying his face in her wild hair. She snuggled against him and sighed in contentment. They stayed in this position for several moments, locked in the other's grasp. To Hermione, she wouldn't mind if they were set in this position for the rest of the day and well into the night, for in Charlie's arms, she felt secure and safe and wanted. Being in a relationship with him had brightened her aspirations for what she perceived for it to entail.

Before, she would've been completely satisfied with a man she could talk to and have intelligent conversations with, the matter of passion and desire tucked away under a dome of a hidden fantasy. Now though, after being with Charlie, she felt the lust and longing he quartered for her, while also awakening feelings that she had never approached before he came along. It rendered to her that relationships consisted of companionship but also of raw intimacy. Charlie expressed what she meant to him when they made love, marking a turning point in her life in which sexual rendezvous blazed.

"We should get going, Charlie."

He sighed loudly as he kissed her forehead. As she started to pull away, his hold on her tightened.

"No, not yet," he said with a hint of pleading laced within.

"Charlie, we have things to do," she nearly laughed.

"I know, I know, but I have this feeling that when we let go of each other, something bad is going to happen. So don't let go, not yet," he repeated.

The couple continued to sit there for several beats before Charlie loosened his grip on her, reaching into his pocket and digging out the spark plug Kingsley had given him earlier.

As he set it on the table before him, Hermione took out her wand, turned to Charlie and questioned, "Are you ready now?"

"No," he returned honestly, chuckling humorlessly in spite of himself, "but we have to get this done, right?"

She nodded her head silently before she tapped the object with her wand three times and stated clearly, "Woan, Romania!"

* * *

Several minutes later, she and Charlie were walking across the smooth pavement of Woan, the pair noticing that it had been fixed to perfection since the last time they did battle with the poachers in it.

The small magical area was bustling with activity on this early afternoon, where the air was several degrees cooler than back in Devon; the most likely reason was that thick clouds obscured the burning overhead sun. Hand-in-hand, they continued to make their way to _Garden Aplenty_ , the fancy restaurant where Wormey worked, as Hermione noticed several women appraise Charlie as he passed by them. While she didn't like the fact that more than a few pairs of eyes were vying to get his attention, she could hardly blame them for staring; Charlie was donned in a navy t-shirt paired with blue jeans, while the front of his short, bright red hair was casually waved off to the side. He looked as if he would fit the frame of _Witch Weekly's Most Eligible Bachelors Under 30_. Hermione, though, was happy to note that Charlie ignored all of the attention he was receiving for his face was set hard in determination.

The couple really only had one question to ask Wormey, which had to do with his past family. While they were sure it was that of Terrance's, they still wanted to uncover the truth from the house-elf himself. It was most likely going to be a rather uncomfortable meeting, yet one that had to take place.

Ducking out from under the grey clouds, Charlie and Hermione entered into the high-end eatery, noticing that it was void of any customers. The large, white piano that was centered in the middle of the restaurant was silent, looking like it was part of a lost memory of a generational story that got passed down, leaving the mouth of a parent and entering into the hearing canal of a child, yet facts were skewed until several details paraded their escape, never to be called upon again.

The eatery itself was brightly lit, unlike the last time Charlie and Hermione had stopped by for a nice, candlelit dinner. The wooden floors gleamed as if they had just been freshly polished while the surrounding tables were decorated, waiting for the first customers to arrive.

" _Garden Aplenty_ does not open until five-thirty, mister and missues," a squeaky voice suddenly said from nearby.

Charlie and Hermione looked to their left and saw who they came all the way to Romania for: Wormey.

"Wormey," they both called out in unison, making the house-elf, who was wearing a flat, red and black checkered wool tweed hat across his chest that was tied with a across its back by a piece of string and men's boxer shorts, look up in surprise.

"Master Charlie and Master Hermione," he gasped aloud, his great, round eyes inching bigger by the second.

"You remember our names," Hermione asked incredulously.

"Oh yes, Wormey has a very good memory!"

Charlie smiled at this before he began, "Um Wormey, you don't have to call us 'master,' just Charlie and Hermione will do."

Suddenly, the house-elf started shaking as small tears leaked out of the corner of his eyes and streamed down his face while his mouth trembled with an inescapable sob.

"Wormey, are you alright," Hermione questioned apprehensively, getting down on her knees to bring herself to his eye-level; Charlie did the same beside her.

Wormey clutched at the outline of his heart (resting under his checkered tweed hat) and stated, "Wormey has never, never been asked to call any witch or wizard by their first name!"

"Well how about 'mister' and missus' then," Charlie replied, "we don't have any problem with that."

The house-elf looked over at Charlie before they darted over to Hermione, who gave him a warm smile and a nod of her head.

"Wormey shall then say 'master' and 'missus' then," he croaked out, wiping away his tear-stained cheeks and giving them a low bow.

"And you don't have to bow either," Charlie added as Hermione had a thought he was discomforted by the fact that he was being treated like a king.

"Why has mister and misses come to see Wormey?"

The couple traded worrisome looks before Hermione said, "There's something we would like to ask you, but it's more of a private matter. Is there somewhere we could go? We won't take too much of your time."

The house-elf gave them a curious look with his head cocked to one side before he said, "Follow Wormey please."

The pair then stood to their feet and followed him to the back of the eatery where a thin staircase neither one had noticed upon their first visit (most likely due to the dim lighting) stood. The party of three made their way up it, as a loud _CREAK!_ was issued from the step located second from the top. They turned right on the landing where a number of doors were situated on their left while a wooden banister was rooted on their right, it overlooking the dining hall.

"Wormey," Hermione called out softly, gesturing towards each passing closed entrance, "are these your living quarters?"

The house-elf turned to look over his shoulder without pausing a beat and replied cheerfully, "Oh, yes! _Garden Aplenty_ provides Wormey a free room to sleep in! Wormey is also allowed to decorate it how he pleases!"

"Sounds like fair treatment to me," Charlie whispered over to Hermione. She turned and made a point for him to see her roll her eyes at his statement, making him grin handsomely.

The house-elf walked a few more paces before he stopped and pushed open the door to his room, allowing Charlie and Hermione to proceed in before him. As they walked inside, Hermione noticed that the room was slightly low-bearing, so much so that the duo had to bend over to keep from hitting their heads upon the ceiling. Arranged along the four light purple and green painted walls of the squared room were a series of hooks, in which each had a tweed hat and corresponding boxer shorts (though Hermione noticed that none of the pairs seemed to match). The space was finished off with a small bed which resided under a round window, it looking out at the vast number of green trees that surrounded Woan.

"This is a nice room," Charlie whistled out and he looked around it, making Wormey nearly giddy with his praise.

"Wormey likes to think so too!" He then paused as his smile waned a bit, before he matched, "What would mister and missues like to talk to Wormey about?"

Without waiting for a reply, the house-elf snapped his fingers to make three fluffy, pink pillows with gold, wool-silk yarn adorning it appear, Wormey plopping down on of them, while Charlie and Hermione copied his actions by occupying the other two.

"Wormey," Hermione started albeit a bit hesitantly, not knowing how he was going to take the question she had ready for him, "there's been a bit of a problem with the dragon reserves in both Romania and Wales." She then stopped as a grave look passed over the house-elf's face, darkening his eyes and making his ears droop downward. "Things have been uncovered but others remain a mystery." She chanced a look over at Charlie, who returned it plus gave her a firm nod of his head. "Well, Wormey, we would like to know who your past family was."

The room then fell silent as Charlie and Hermione started over at the house-elf, who in turn took a tremendous gulp.

"Wormey…Wormey cannot say," the little elf repeated in a whisper, seeming to grow smaller and smaller with each passing second of time, horror spilling over his features. "Wormey…he served a bad family."

"I know this is hard for you," Hermione began in a voice she hoped was consoling, "but we need your help. Charlie and I believe that dragons are being harvested for their scales by a big poacher network-," Hermione stopped here, however, as Wormey began to wail loudly.

She gasped from the unexpected howl, which sounded like a high-pitched siren more than a cry, as the house-elf covered both of his eyes with his hands, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably, while he started to vigorously shake his head from side to side, so much so that Hermione was sure his head would spin all the way around atop his shoulders.

"Wormey," Charlie began, as he reached over and grabbed his skinny arms to pull them gently away from his face, which had renewed a fresh round of tears, "please calm down. We don't mean to cause a scene."

The house-elf instantly quieted though his body language told them that he was far from being calm.

"Like Hermione said, we can't imagine how difficult this is to you, but these dragons that are being targeted by these poachers, they're important to us. We want to stop them…we want to do what's right, not just for the dragons but for all magical creatures that are mistreated by witches and wizards alike."

At this, Hermione peered over at him, his words catching her off guard.

He continued, "Our kind, meaning witches and wizards, we always underestimate magical creatures, mainly because we are too ignorant to take the time to understand them and their different habits. We are always pushed by greed or some sort gain, it being monetary or a sick sense of self-righteousness. But we're asking you for help, Wormey, because we really need it."

The house-elf's large eyes were fixated on Charlie the entire time he spoke, seemingly unable to look away from him.

Wormey was quiet for a moment, silent hiccups rocking his body to and fro, before he nodded his head at a snail's pace and began with a low murmur, "The house of Wormey's former masters began their interest in dragons long ago; Wormey knows for he served them for four generations. They created a network and called it the Nocturnal League. Its purpose was to create a dragon that was a mixture of the blood from other species for it to be able to conquer the dragons it resided with on individual reserves. The plan was for members of the league to take the scales off of the sleeping dragon, kill it, and set up a scene that made it look as if the dragon had a rare disease, one that was able to spread quickly.

It was only a short time ago that the league was able to successfully create this beast, and they called it the Victorian Shaler. Members of the poacher network took it to a remote area in Canada, where they were going to study it before the other eggs were to be shipped to the Wales encampment."

"Why Wales though," Charlie intervened. "There are so many other reserves all over the world, even some in America."

"Because the Victorian Shalers are bred underneath Shadowground," Wormey answered.

This rocked Hermione, as her heart began to beat wildly in her chest.

"Wormey," she then cut in, thinking over how exactly she was going to phrase her question that was picking away at her mind, "do you mean that the only reason Shadowground exists is because of the Nocturnal League and the Victorian Shalesr?"

The house-elf looked devastated, like he was betraying a close friend of a secret he kept locked away for decades.

"Yes," he finally managed to squeak out, while Hermione vaguely heard the staircase emit a loud _CREAK!_ from outside his room.

"Wormey," Charlie started, "can you tell us who the former family you served was?"

The house-elf looked down upon the floor and issued, "Wormey served the house of the Wriley's. However I was released-,"

Suddenly, something whizzed by Hermione, so close that it made her hair ruffle in return. In the next instant, a knife punctured Wormey's right eye, ripping through the retina and severing the optic nerve.

Charlie and Hermione both whipped around to see Terrance framed in the doorway, he wand brandished in his hand.

As Wormey cried out in tremendous pain, Hermione having no doubt that he was blind in at least is right eye, Terrance said with a false sense of amusement, "It seems as if the skeleton is out of the closet, doesn't it?"

He then waved his wand viciously, causing Hermione to black out.


	26. Monsters Everywhere

A/N: Hello all! This chapter, Chapter 26, is the pinnacle climax of "Nocturnal." This is where the entire story comes together, answering questions dating all the way back to the first chapter - hopefully it does just that. As the warning below suggests, this chapter is heavy and dark and not for the faint-of-heart. "Nocturnal" has two more chapters left after this one (Chapters 27 and 28) before it is completed. Thanks for reading.

* * *

Warning: This chapter contains material meant for mature readers.

Chapter 26: Monsters Everywhere

Hermione's arms were sore, there was no doubt about that. Though for some odd reason, that was the only thing she felt tingle of her whole body; she couldn't feel her feet, legs, stomach, chest, neck, or head, but her arms (and fingers for that matter)…large and far were definitely uncomfortable.

Paired with this unpleasantness, she also heard heavy breathing from somewhere next to her, it sounding like it was coming from a male that had been tortured beyond speech capability. It was of a ragged quality though it did sound somewhat familiar.

Prying open her eyelids one at a time, Hermione took in her surroundings: she was in what looked like a squared dungeon; the stone walls around her hosting no windows or panes of glass, but instead, medieval-like brackets, where a fire burned merrily away, cackling on the dry air. She also noticed that besides a staircase that led upwards, a light shining from the upper floors that stood above the prison-like room she was in, a number of doors were situated close by, though to where they led, she did not know.

Her eyes traveled around, looking above her and saw the source of her discomfort: her arms were chained above her, the steel metal hanging from the darkened rafters that kept her firmly in place. The floor below her shoes was of a rough, grey sandstone, which seemed to gleam from the firelight dancing over it.

The tattered breathing rocked against her again as she turned her head to her left and saw Charlie, though he looked to be in rough shape: he was shirtless, though he brandished gash marks that crisscrossed his chest like a fiery 'X'; his eyes were closed as a dry trail of blood combed down from his temple to his jaw line; he also had purple-colored bruises that bloomed near his left eye.

"Charlie," Hermione said, her voiced cracked from lack of usage in what resembled hours. "Charlie," she repeated, when he didn't come to, a gnawing ache coursing through her veins.

"Ah, I see that Miss Granger is finally awake," a familiar voice said cheerfully from the frame of a doorway she did not notice had been recently opened.

She squinted towards it and made out two shadowy figures emerging from it, the second closing the door upon his exit. The pair's footsteps echoed around the dungeon like droplets of water that pattered down in a sewage system.

As they made their way closer, Hermione saw the silhouettes turn into Sprought and Terrance, the latter of who was carrying a rumpled bag in his right hand effortlessly. He let it drop onto the floor where it landed with an unceremonious _thump_.

"Sprought," she returned coldly, before she directed her gaze over at his partner in crime, "and Terrance," she said with equal ferocity. For a moment, she thought she detected a strange sort of pain within Terrance's eyes, before he blinked, and it was gone.

"Yes Miss Granger, Sprought and Terrance," the aged wizard responded, his eyes glowing a vile yellow. She saw that he was wearing white wizards' robes, looking like some sort of falsified priest ready to cleanse the earth of its cruel ways; this contrasted starkly with Terrance, who was wearing a simple white t-shirt and blue jeans.

"What have you done to Charlie?" Hermione felt her voice quaver as her heart was beating out of time; she knew they were in a dangerous position with only Sprought and Terrance to heed her words, if she was even allowed to speak freely from this point forward.

"Miss Granger," Sprought started again, making the hairs on Hermione's neck stand on end by the use of her name, "rest assured that Mr. Weasley is just fine. In fact, he woke up sometime before you did, though he was quite hysterical if I might add, making Terrance knock him back out for the hope that he would be less, ah, what is the word I'm looking for, oh yes, less theatrical when he came to. Actually, Terrance, I think I'm ready to have this long-awaited chat with the pair, so if you please do the honors of waking Mr. Weasley back up, that'd be just dandy."

A wave of uneasiness swept over Hermione at Sprought's words, as he sounded as if he was going to genuinely enjoyed what was to come of her and Charlie, like a child on Christmas morning, startled over the amounts of presents to be opened that patiently waited under the shimmering tree.

Hermione thought Terrance was going to take out his wand but instead, he walked up to Charlie (paying no attention to her) and tapped his face several times over his cheek, not hard enough to call it a slap, yet the sound resonated around the dungeon. When he didn't open his eyes, Terrance's mouth curled in a smile before, with incredible speed, he punched Charlie hard in the stomach with a closed first, she having no doubt he packed in as much muscle as possible with it (and if Terrance's arms were any indication, he had an incredible amount of power). Charlie suddenly doubled over as much as the chains would allow, coughing at first, before sputtering and wheezing.

"Stop it, stop it," Hermione yelled in panic, as the second-oldest Weasley coughed out a thick spurt of blood, coating his chin and chest.

Terrance again ignored her as he roughly grabbed Charlie's face and asked in a mocking voice that resembled one of Phillip's, "Wakey, wakey Char!"

Hermione was looked over at the pair, hearing Charlie grunt before his head snapped around to look at her.

"H-Hermione," he called out anxiously though still in clear pain, "Hermione are you o-okay?"

"Spare us, if you please," Sprought cut across in a loud voice, not giving her the opportunity to answer. "Not everyone fancies watching a live-action soap opera play before their eyes, especially from the likes of you two."

Terrance stepped away and took back his place beside the leader of the Nocturnal League.

"Where are we and why do you have us tied up?"

At Charlie's question, Sprought emitted a cold laugh as he replied, "Oh, don't be such a fool, Mr. Weasley. You are tied up because you two, along with another Mr. Soren, infiltrated my meeting last night with the likes of no doubt bringing it down from the inside with the help of the Minister of Magic. Yes, I tracked you two earlier today back in London, while Terrance followed you to Romania. You can rest easy to know that all of your questions will be answered in due time, though what you are able to do with those answers are rather limited."

"What are you going to do, kill us," Charlie questioned.

"You, most likely," Sprought answered casually, pointing one of his bony fingers at him, making Hermione stir against her chains of imprisonment, "her on the other hand," he now expressed towards Hermione, "well, let's just say that Terrance here has brought up some interesting ideas of what to do with her."

"Don't you even think about laying a finger on her," Charlie seethed, barring his teeth like a wild animal protecting what belonged to it.

"I have to say that you aren't in the position to make those types of calls, are you, Mr. Weasley? Terrance doesn't wish for Hermione to die."

"What does he want from her?"

"Like I said: in due time I'm sure he will tell you before you close your eyes for the final time. Now," Sprought continued, clapping his hands together with a loud _smack!_ , "your first question you posed to me, I can answer: right now, we are in the basement of Shadowground. I'm quite certain you two pieced together the mystery involving the Victorian Shalers, have you not?"

This time, Hermione spoke, not wanting to think that she was scared (though in her current predicament, she did feel hopeless, and the gleam in Terrance's eyes turned over her stomach in an uncomfortable manner), "The Nocturnal League created them. You mixed the blood of other dragons to bring the Victorian Shalers to life."

"Why, Miss Granger, you sound as if it was an easy task to complete! On the contrary, it took years, fifteen to be exact, to find the correct blood mixture for the Shalers to breathe in the air around us for the first time; of course, this was aided with a hint of dark magic, though that is to be assumed."

"Why? What was the point in creating another dragon species," Charlie questioned heavily, the area where Terrance had socked him earlier starting to color over.

"As I'm sure you heard last night, the Nocturnal League is a poacher network, Mr. Weasley, one that has been standing for four generations! As it is, the selling of dragon scales is a very lucrative business, one that made my family rather wealthy. However, before the idea to create a whole new dragon breed was brought about, the Nocturnal League was in disarray: more and more poachers were being caught and imprisoned, while we were all challenged by new and more powerful security mechanisms. No, we needed a brand-new concept we could use to our advantage, a notion that has never been tried or done before. The Victorian Shalers were our ace. Producing them from nothing was difficult at first, as I've already told you, as infusing hypnosis powers into the wing design of these beasts was a whole feat unto itself! But we got there finally, oh yes, we got there indeed."

"So what Wormey told us was true then," Hermione voiced aloud, "after you took the scales of whatever dragon was incapacitated by the Shaler, you were going to kill it but frame it as if it had a disease instead."

"Yes, that little elf heard a bit more than what he was supposed to," Sprought insisted, his eyes wandering over to the bag Terrance had brought. "But I can guarantee he won't be hearing anything anymore."

Hermione had a feeling of disgust rush through her as she didn't have to think too hard of what exactly was in the sack now lying on the floor the basement of Shadowground.

"Seeing that I'm a rather good mood tonight, would you like to know how it was that you were brought here?"

"Tonight," Charlie repeated, shooting a startled look over at Hermione.

"Yes, the pair of you have been out for quite some time, waking up for brief periods before falling back into unconsciousness. It is," Sprought waved his wand, much as he did when she, Charlie, and Phillip had secretly invaded the Nocturnal League's meeting the previous evening, making a cloud of red smoke appear in mid-air, "seven-thirty p.m. Well, I'll assume you'll want to hear Terrance's story, so I'll go ahead and start it and then he'll finish it."

Sprought paused here, looking first at Charlie in a hungry manner, like a predator would eye its prey, and then directed his attention over at Hermione, his eyes representing rings of evil, his pupils like wasps' stingers. He clasped his hands behind his lower back, started walking along a straight line, looking as if such a line had been painted on the basement floor, traced his steps backward, and began.

"Shadowground was built nearly nine decades ago for the sole purpose of housing the activities that took place within it; it was the headquarters of the Nocturnal League. When the idea of the Victorian Shalers came to us, we expanded the basement level, as you can see through the various doors that lead off of this main chamber, where the eggs are concocted. It was decided that because a small number of witches and wizards resided in Wales, the small wizarding community, Fauella, would be established, with Shadowground acting as the Wales' sole government building, keeping in close communication with the Ministry of Magic in London, along with the Magical Congress of the United States of America in New York.

"Moving right along, your friend, Terrance, enlisted to be part of the Nocturnal League when he was working on the reserve in Romania shortly after he learned of it, from a worker named Harris, who I'm sure you both know one way or another. As fate would have it, Terrance and I are distant relatives of each other, our tree line dating back to us having the same ancestors. It was then that I entrusted to Terrance the role of being my number one correspondent to the Romanian Dragon Reserve; Harris, I thought was an illiterate wanker…how he managed to earn even one O.W.L. is beyond me. When Terrance would come home to Wales on holiday, I would discuss with him any new developments that were ongoing while I would in turn give him updates on what was happening with the Nocturnal League."

Hermione thought that this was what Wormey had meant when he told Phillip that he knew Sprought. She guessed that the house-elf had not been freed as of yet.

"It was at this time that Terrance warned me about your Director Mulligan, someone who I unfortunately have a history with. I was informed that he was sly and cunning, yet whole-heartedly detested dragon poachers and would slain one down if he had the chance. Terrance and I talked about putting him under the Imperius Curse, letting him do our bidding under the guise as a reserve director, until I pulled the plug on that plan as I was positive someone would find out about him not being under his own control of his own actions. I instead decided that ushering in Nocturnal League members posing as dragon handlers would be satisfactory; I, of course, falsified all of their records to make them seem that they had enough experience and were capable of working with those beasts.

"However, work with the Victorian Shalers was slow and rather sporadic. I had the members working in Romania remain dormant for long periods of time. But, money began to run low for some of our members who then threatened to leave us for rival poacher organizations. Something had to be done so I enacted a plan which included the harvest of the Hungarian Horntails' scales; this was a rather ill-prepared move on my part as the Shalers weren't ready for deployment, yet we couldn't have our members departing for our competitors. As I recall, the planned harvest was a fiasco as I believe Mr. Soren was at the center of it, wasn't he, Terrance?"

Terrance, who had only said one line since entering in this main chamber of sorts where Hermione and Charlie were kept (' _Wakey, wakey Char!_ '), stepped forward with his arms crossed over his chest and explained, "Phillip found out about the Nocturnal League and my participation in it. With a brush of luck, Phillip didn't tell anyone, not even Director Mulligan, what he had uncovered…he instead tried to thwart my plans for the Horntails; he probably thought that if he could do it successfully, his popularity would rise among the fellow workers that detested him and his random dragon facts he constantly spewed out. Anyway, seeing him at the last second, I changed tactics and instead hit him with a stunner and modified his memory; I happen to be quite gifted with memory charms. I made him forget about the Nocturnal League while had him think that Director Mulligan was at the center of a random poacher regime. I reckon it worked well enough, as Phillip went a little brain-dead after that incident."

"And what about Ray," Charlie intervened, "how did he die?"

"Worton? Yeah, well, he arrived first to aid Phillip and he unfortunately saw me stun Phillip, so I killed him."

Terrance said this with such simplicity that it made Hermione momentarily sick. How could someone be so callous to discuss the murder of a supposed friend like it was akin to talking about how hot or cold one's tea was on a sunny, July day? She thought it was so out-of-form, surging against human nature, acting instead like the thought process of a rabid, wild animal.

"You bastard," Charlie whispered with barely controlled ferocity, "you bloody mingebag! You killed one of our best mates!"

"Oh no Charlie, not one of my best mates, one of your best mates," he retorted calmly.

"How could you say something like that," Charlie questioned quietly in disbelief.

Terrance shrugged. "It's the truth."

A brief silence ensued before Sprought punctuated it, he seemingly unaffected by Terrance's vile act. "Yes, well, Terrance played his part quite brilliantly if I might add, taking care of Mr. Soren for the time being, while also getting rid of this Mr. Worton that you, Mr. Weasley, appear to be overly fond of."

Sprought stared over at Charlie with a certain hungriness in his eyes that made Hermione's stomach churn unpleasantly. However, a sudden thought popped into her head that she voiced aloud.

"So it's true then that you were in charge of the poachers that infiltrated the Romanian Dragon Reserve," she shot over towards Sprought.

His yellow eyes fixated on her as he answered, "Yes, though that plan failed on my account, something I take full responsibility for."

"What was the original intent," Hermione inquired, trying to buy her and Charlie more time to try and get themselves out of the predicament they were now in, Charlie to face certain death while Hermione was to go off with Terrance, suffering under whatever he had planned for her.

Sprought was quiet for a moment before he started, "Well, I don't see the harm in letting you two know so here it is. Back when I questioned you over the incident in Woan, I found out that you two accidentally stumbled upon the house in the woods. Knowing how bright you are Miss Granger, I'm sure you've deduced what it is for?"

"It was an entry point on the reserve," she said.

"Precisely. Foolish that Director Mulligan was too involved with placing protective enchantments over TAP that he grew complacent over the woods surrounding the damned pens themselves! Though that worked to our advantage. The house was built not too long ago and as Miss Granger has noted, served as an easy access to infiltrate the reserve. Three men came that night: two were given specific directions to steal the eggs of a Chinese Fireball, a Hungarian Horntail, and a Hebridean Black, while the third was supposed to set a dragon loose as a diversion of sorts. Yet, that plan, a bit elementary as I look back on it now, went to ruin when Terrance's partner, who was patrolling the Primitive enclosure with him, first eyed the men in the woods. Terrance, having no other alternative if he wished to keep his cover, relayed a message to the other workers on the graveyard shift to let you all know that reserve had been breached. Of course, a little skirmish ensued in Woan while the remaining poacher let loose a Romanian Longhorn."

"You did it, didn't you," Charlie suddenly stated, not even a second after Sprought had finished speaking.

"What are you on about, Mr. Weasley?"

"I'm not talking to you," he returned bitterly, "I'm talking to Terrance."

"You might want to mind your attitude, Char," Terrance said, in a voice that once again was mocking Phillip, "or haven't you noticed that you are at our mercy?"

"Never mind that, Terrance," Sprought interjected, "let Mr. Weasley say what is on his mind."

Hermione gulped as she looked over at Charlie, wondering what he initially meant.

"You were the one that hit Phillip in the back of the head with the brick, weren't you?"

"Finally caught on, have you? Well, it took you ages, which is surprising, given how bright Hermione is," Terrance responded with a cruel smile as he ran both of his palms over his brown buzz cut, his eyes flashing over to her. "In case you never noticed, none of the buildings in Woan are made of brick – I thought then that I surely blew my cover, but I was lucky neither of you two realized what had occurred."

"Then you waited in the jewelry store, _Exquisite Exhibition_ , with the man who had the dragon eggs until the wards lifted over Woan so that he could escape," Charlie concluded.

"Yes, I then took upon the heroic deed of collapsing the building on top of myself, apparating out of there just in the nick of time."

"So this Nocturnal League, it is an international organization," Hermione brought about next. Terrance looked over at her, licking his lips as he did so (which did not go unnoticed by her – her skin crawled seeing this) as she continued, "One of the poachers that spoke to me back in Woan, I remember that he spoke with an accent."

"Quite right, Miss Granger," Sprought picked up, nodding his head slightly.

"He told me that I fought for what doesn't exist, meaning that I was fighting over the Victorian Shalers which hadn't been bred at that point in time!"

She shared a look with Charlie, the full horrific impact of everything finally coming together before them, slamming into her like gravity sets in for a man without wings.

"Of course, as you all know," Sprought went forward, "the man that set the Romanian Longhorn loose was captured in the Castle of Stone. It was a risk that he was brought back to St. Mungo's with an auror guarding his room door. So I had Terrance incapacitate the guard, kill our comrade and frame the respective auror of the crime, putting him under the Imperius Curse. I then had the distinct honor of presiding over the auror's trial which he fully admitted to carrying out the act of murder where he was sentenced to life in Azkaban Prison. Simple…easy…done."

"How did you know that we were at your meeting last night," Hermione sought after next.

"Ah yes, that was something that I was getting at, wasn't I? Well, in short, it was Terrance and a fairly masterful plan he concocted. He told me that he thought that you in particular, Miss Granger, were beginning to question his morals and his allegiance. Therefore, he had to find a way to gain back your trust. He planned to do this with the announcement that he was going to be a father, a father of two babies."

"That was fake," Charlie choked out.

"Oh yes, Mr. Weasley, a skilled out-maneuver on his part, as you two played right into his hands. His later apology, he thought, sufficiently earned back your trust, eliminating Miss Granger's wayward thoughts over him. Anyway, while he supposedly left the encampment to attend to his baby drama, he instead met me right here, in the basement of Shadowground. Terrance told me that while your faith in him was restored, for the time being at least, in the Victorian Shalers it was not, as evidenced by your conversation you all had with Mulligan in the reserve's hospital. He also said that you two might know about the upcoming meeting of the Nocturnal League, which shocked me so. I asked him 'how' in which he answered that Mr. Soren overheard it being tossed around between some of the workers who are part of our network organization. You three are apparently close with each other which led me to do some more planning.

"I had Terrance wait in the woods behind the bridge that leads over to Fauella; he made sure that he was not seen. Then, as fate would have it, you three blindly discussed placing the Disillusionment charm over yourselves to gain access to the meeting, in which Terrance followed in step right behind you, taking part of your plan, unbeknownst of course.

"He tracked your movements to Romania, where he finally found his family's previous house-elf, Wormey. From what I know, the Wrileys freed that mangled creature before getting a new one, though they didn't properly dispose of him as he knew far too much for my liking. I wanted him dead but Wormey left Wales, and none of us had any idea where he went. Though as fate would have it yet again, you two led Terrance right to him! And as the saying goes, I believe, 'Everything else is history.'"

"You never knew that Wormey was in Woan," Charlie rolled over to Terrance. "He was practically in the reserve's backyard."

Terrance shrugged once more at this, replying, "Wormey apparently never came out of _Garden Aplenty_ and I had no reason to go in."

Hermione and Charlie stared over at Sprought with pure hatred while they both leveled Terrance with looks of betrayal; neither man seemed to mind, though Hermione noticed Terrance's eyes kept flicking over to her.

"What about Director Mulligan," Hermione inquired.

"What about your precious director," Sprought shot back.

"Phillip first thought that he was behind everything. He also told us that Director Mulligan was obsessed with the house in the woods."

"Your questions are rather silly, making me question whether or not you have a functioning brain, girl," Sprought responded, making Charlie rattle restlessly against the chains that had tethered him as a mock prisoner.

"Mr. Soren thought that Mulligan was behind these acts because Terrance's memory charm made it so. As for why he was obsessed with the house in the woods…why, that's pure coincidence on his part, probably wondering what it's purpose was and how long it had been there without his knowledge."

A hush then ensued over the group of four, Sprought having a certain glee file over his facial features, making Hermione's loathing of him soar into the stratosphere. However, everything, starting with the events that unfolded during the graveyard shift back in Romania, have finally come full circle, making sense of it all.

Charlie was the first to speak after Sprought's clarification of dragon matters, asking, "So what happens now?"

"Yes, Mr. Weasley," Sprought yelled with excitement, clapping his hands together again with a loud _smack!_ that reverberated around the cold, dungeon walls. "What does happen now?!"

"Do you plan on killing us," he queried over in an even tone, seeming to be unperturbed by this action. "If you are, you'll never get away with it. Minister Shacklebolt knows of the Nocturnal League and that you're its leader."

"Don't be a fool, boy," Sprought replied coldly, "accidents are made to happen. Yours will, of course, come first, then if Kingsley challenges my innocence, he'll come next. Actually, Terrance, I think it's time," Sprought remarked, nodding his head over towards the bag he had brought in earlier.

Terrance walked over to it and picked it up, Hermione not wanting to see what it contained.

"Prepare as you can, Mr. Weasley, for your fate will be the same as his," Sprought thundered about.

As if on cue, Terrance overturned the sack and out came the lifeless body of Wormey, crumpling onto the floor in a wild heap, the knife still lodged in his right eye. Hermione cried out in disgust and terror, as the elf had a look of pain plastered over its features that remained on it as it issued out its final breath. The light had died behind its large, round eyes, dimming it under an eternal darkness, while its tiny body colored over in a nauseating shade of grey.

"You two dug your way into more than what you could handle," Sprought said in a low and dangerous tone, sinister, in fact. "Over the course of the next several minutes, Mr. Weasley, you will die, while Miss Granger will go away with Terrance."

At this, Hermione's ears perked up, wondering if she had heard Sprought correctly.

Charlie also sensed his strange speech, for he asked, "H-Hermione going away with Terrance…w-where?"

"Oh, didn't you know," Sprought ridiculed with a large, fake smile, "Terrance fancies Miss Granger."

Hermione looked over at Charlie who seemed to be shaking with rage, his face a beat red that matched his hair, while his hands balled into fists above him.

"Don't you lay a bloody finger on her," he commanded with a growl, "she has nothing to do with this."

"Well, you're quite wrong on that front, Mr. Weasley. You see, I'm sure half of what you know is because of your delectable girlfriend, is it not? As it is, you are not one to make such demands either. Now, before you take Miss Granger away, Terrance, do you have any parting words for your best 'mate', Mr. Weasley?"

Hermione saw Terrance smirk as he slowly made his way up to Charlie again, coming face-to-face with him, longtime friends, now short-term rivals.

"I'm going to enjoy this Charlie, now that you're awake."

Without waiting another second, Terrance punched Charlie square in the nose, just as he had happened to him the day before. Terrance, however, didn't stop there, for he repeatedly punched Charlie directly in the nose, over and over and over again. Blood was pouring down his face, small broken bone fragments jutting oddly out at sickening angles.

"STOP IT!" Hermione yelled at the top of her lungs, it tearing her apart to see Charlie's face scrunch up in excruciating pain.

Terrance ignored her for he then kicked out Charlie's kneecap, making him cry out, while he then leveled punches against his exposed rib cage; Hermione sobbed uncontrollably as she numerous _cracks_ , causing Charlie to again shriek in agony.

Terrance then stopped his beating and pulled out his wand. He flicked it over at Hermione, as she felt a chill run down her spine, making her shiver. It was then that she realized she was incapable of moving unto her own will. She tried to curl her fingers, to move her feet, to shake her head but each action was to no avail. Terrance flicked his wand again as Hermione felt her body collapse forward towards his, she being freed from the chains. He caught her though with an easy grace as he pocketed his wand and moved her body with his so that the pair was standing directly in front of Charlie, whose eyes burned with an unsettling ache.

"This is you loosing," Terrance whispered over to him. Then, Terrance, supporting Hermione with his hands on her back and neck, pushed his lips against hers. Hermione was helpless to do anything for the spell Terrance hit her with rendered her immobile.

"TERRANCE, DON'T DO THIS!" Charlie's voice was one of a pleading scream as he struggled with all of his strength against his bondage of chains. "LET HER GO!"

Terrance however didn't pay any attention, for he deepened the kiss, plowing his tongue into Hermione's mouth, and she was incapable to do anything but take it. She felt tears stream down her cheeks while Charlie continued to scream at the scene he was making, tears spilling out of the corners of his own eyes.

"Save it, Terrance," came the voice of Sprought, making him pull away suddenly. "Take her away and do with her what you please."

"Sir," Terrance started as he scooped Hermione up against his chest, supporting the crook behind her knees as well as her back, "do you mind keeping Charlie alive for a bit longer? I want Charlie to suffer some more while I bed Hermione."

Sprought seemed to consider this before he said, "Might as well; I want to check on the third egg of the Victorian Shaler anyway."

As the leader of the Nocturnal League went away, disappearing behind one of the doors the wall housed, Terrance turned back towards Charlie, smiled, and spit directly in his face.

"Hermione is going to pleasure me, Charlie," Terrance stated cheerfully, "she's going to pleasure me far more than she's ever done for you. You think about that; in the meantime, she and I will be participating in copulation."

"Terrance, please," Charlie nearly begged, "kill me instead but just let Hermione go. Please, just let her go."

After a beat, he replied in a monotone. "No."

Fear tore through Hermione's body, filling ever fiber of her being to its brim as Terrance carried her away. She wasn't shaking, for she couldn't move on her own will, yet if she could, she was positive her 'shaking' would resemble that of having a seizure. Terrance kicked open a door, bringing Hermione into it. He shut it close with his heel, barring Charlie entry.

"I made this for us," he whispered down to her. Terrance spun around with Hermione still in his arms so that she could take in where they now where. Her eyes fell upon what closely modeled a bedroom that was carpeted, complete with a mattress, a tall wardrobe, and standing mirror.

Suddenly, Hermione thought over his words ' _I made this for us_ ' and reached a conclusion: Terrance was sick; not sick as in he had a cold or caught the flu, rather that he was mentally unstable. At some point in his life, a person or an event had deterred him off the path where sane human beings walked upon, and instead, he landed in the cold waters of a nearby pond of madness; as the waters of insanity rushed over his head, it at the same time drained him of whatever rational though he had left.

She wondered how Charlie could have not seen this before; after all, they were best mates (in Charlie's mind at least), unless Terrance only acted this way when he was with a girl. There was a strong possibility that he really did want to find the right bird, yet he couldn't help himself when any other female threw herself at him. It was as if he didn't know what to do with the right bird once he caught it, nor did he know how to treat it.

He set her gently down on the bed and sat beside her, holding one of her hands in both of his.

"Hermione," he started in an even voice, "I don't hate you. I mean, if it were up to me, you and I would be back on the reserve in my home, enjoying each other's company under my bed sheets. Yeah, I don't know you as well as Charlie and you don't know me as well as you do him, but I can provide for you; I can give you the ultimate satisfaction; I can show you intimacy no other guy could muster up in their wildest dreams. All you have to do is give me a chance."

'He's definitely psychotic,' Hermione inwardly thought as she stared up at his eyes. 'Where is this coming from anyway?'

"You're probably wondering where my sudden liking of you comes from, aren't you? Well, it wasn't as quick as you might expect. The first time we met in Charlie's flat back in Romania, that was the first time I felt something for you. We talked a bit in Woan, which is when I found out you were funny; we fought alongside each other, albeit they were friends of mine we were fighting, but that was when I realized you had incredible talent, even as a Muggleborn witch; and back in the Brazilian Bastions pen, after I got bit by the snake, you showed that you were worried over my condition, proving that you have some feelings for me as well. It's written in the stars for us to be together, don't you see that? You and I can start a life somewhere in the open country, away from the Nocturnal League. We can have as many kids as you want and they'll all go to Hogwarts. We'll live together and have sex as often as possible. It's the perfect future…you and I."

Terrance set Hermione's hand down and instead ran his own over his brown buzz cut.

"We're going to have sex, Hermione, right here and right now. We're going to make our relationship official." He pulled the hem of his t-shirt up over his head and discarded it onto the sandy-colored carpeted floor. "We're not going to use any protection because a family with you is what I want."

Without another word (and against Hermione's will), he bent forward at a quickened pace and captured her lips with his. She was powerless to do anything as he deepened their snog, prying open her lips with his tongue, forcing it in. A new round of tears welled up in her eyes and started a waterfall down her face.

Terrance broke their contact as he swiftly moved over her, pinning her body underneath his. He grabbed her leg and wrapped it easily around his body as he dove for her neck, kissing and licking and kissing and licking it over and over again – he was relentless.

Hermione wished someone would come in and pull Terrance off her but did anyone know she and Charlie were trapped in the basement of Shadowground? Did anyone else know that Terrance was forcing intimacy onto her, something she didn't want, not with him? Did anyone know that Charlie was badly injured, his nose shattered, his knee cap dislocated, his ribs bruised at the very least, with a strong possibility several of them were cracked?

She heard Terrance fumbling around with his belt buckle, which was followed by the zipper of his jeans.

He then paused in his actions, looked deep into Hermione's eyes and asked, "Are you a virgin?"

She couldn't respond by whatever spell Terrance had cast upon her though he suddenly realized this as he said next, "I'm going to take the curse off of you so you can answer but don't do anything stupid. Remember, I have a wand and you don't."

Terrance reached into his jeans pockets (which we still on) as he waved his wand over her. When he did so, a warm spout fleshed out within her as if she had been revived from the dead.

Instead of answering his question, Hermione began with, "Terrance, please don't do this!"

"Answer my question, Hermione."

Not wanting to anger him any further or else he would once again place her under the stock-still spell she was unable to move a muscle under, she responded, "No, no I'm not."

"Charlie took it from you, didn't he?"

Hermione barely heard this for she was planning her escape from Terrance. Yes he had a wand but she had her hands, and while she has never used them before as an act of violence (discounting third-year when she punched Draco Malfoy), this was a do or die situation she was in. She had to get Charlie and find a way out.

"ANSWER ME!" Terrance's loud voice startled her so much that she jumped back, her heart rate quickening in a painful manner.

It was then that a feeling of defiance came over Hermione, one that wasn't afraid of what spell Terrance might put her under again, or the fact that Charlie was minutes away from death. No, this Hermione was going to find a way to escape and she and Charlie were going to survive.

"Answer me, you little-,"

Terrance never finished his words, however, as Hermione abruptly smacked his wand out of his hand, where it rolled against a lone wall.

Terrance pushed Hermione against her chest as he scrambled to retrieve his wand. Before he could get very far though, Hermione regained her composure and launched onto his back. He nearly toppled over with the unexpected added weight but his feet remained rooted on the floor.

He then ran backwards where Hermione collided with the tall wardrobe back-first. She groaned out in pain as Terrance spun around and swung a fist at her head. She ducked just in time for Terrance to instead pound a hole in one of the wardrobe's façade, making him yell out in frustration, as small, wooden splinters flew into the air.

Hermione made to grab hold of the wand yet Terrance was too quick for her: he grabbed her around the waist with one of his muscular arms while the other took hold of her hand and twisted it behind her, making her shoulder silently scream in suffering.

"Nice try," he seethed quietly into her ear, "but don't forget, you are mine now."

With that, he walked her back over to the bed, making her bend down in front of him with her head resting against the mattress. He was able to capture both of her arms in one of his hands, while his free one pushed down his jeans halfway as he then slammed his arousal against her bottom, hard.

"I didn't tag you as a physical fighter, Hermione, but just so you know, I find that to be a major turn-on!"

She turned her head sideways a bit to see Terrance begin to push his orange box shorts off of him.

However, the door to their room suddenly banged open, making Terrance release Hermione.

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU BLOODY BASTARD," a familiar voice suddenly yelled, a voice that belonged to Charlie.

She heard Terrance grunt as her eye caught Charlie spearing his midsection back into the damaged wardrobe. Charlie, who was still shirtless, his face a mask of bruises while his side was colored as well, paid no attention to his own well-being, for he was too busy throwing punch after punch at Terrance's face. He was able to cover up, yet this did not deter the raging Weasley for he instead brought down a vicious elbow to the back of Terrance's neck, making him fall onto his hands and knees. Growling like a lion going in for the kill, Charlie picked Terrance up and slammed him face first against the standing mirror, shattering it into thousands of tiny pieces, creating a brief rainfall of bloodied fragments.

It was then that Charlie turned and ran over at Hermione, enveloping her in a fierce hug, though her body protested.

"Charlie, stop, please, my back and shoulder hurt," she managed to let out, as he instantly let her go.

"Hermione, are you okay? Where...where does it hurt?"

"I think I'm fine but my back and shoulder…they're in pain. Charlie, how are you here? What's going on?"

"Phillip," he answered swiftly. "I don't know how but Phillip is here along with Kingsley and the entire Auror department. They're fighting upstairs against members of the Nocturnal League." Charlie then reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out Hermione's wand. "Phillip rescued these for us, so here, you're going to need it."

As she took hold of her wand, she asked, "Charlie, are you okay? You look horrible."

Even though she was positive his body ached all over, he managed a chuckle.

"I'll live, let's just get out of here."

Before they could do so, however, Terrance managed to grab hold of his own wand. His face a crimson mask of blood, he looked like a crazed madman as he blasted the couple backward, making them slam into a far wall. Hermione moaned out as her already twinging back took the brunt of the pain again as she saw Terrance flee from the room, button his pants and pulling on his t-shirt as he did so.

"Charlie, come on," Hermione urged, getting to her feet gingerly and helping Charlie to his.

They then followed Terrance's footsteps out of the room Terrance planned to have sex with Hermione in, out into the cool dungeon, past Wormey's dead, cold body, and up the flight of stairs, out of the Shadowground basement, though she realized Charlie was limping the entire way.

Up and up they went, hand-in-hand, shouts from the Auror department and the Nocturnal League intermingling with each other, sounding like the finals for the Quidditch World Cup instead of a battle.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Hermione's eyes fell upon complete and utter chaos: hexes and jinxes of multicolored spells clashed in midair, ricocheting around Shadowground's atrium, chipping away at its walls and columns, with even some bouncing up towards the under-dome, making the famous witches and wizards painted on there dart for cover. Dust filled the air, mixed in with cries of pain and delight, as small puddles of blood began pooling near random, strewn bodies.

In the middle of the vast hall amongst the fighters, Sprought and Director Mulligan were firing off curse after curse at each other with such speed that small bouts of fire began forming at their wand tips, pure hatred etched into their features. Feet away from them, Terrance and Phillip were doing battle, with Phillip showing incredible precision, dancing and weaving in between the spells Terrance fired at him.

Just as Charlie went off to finish Terrance, limping along the way, a jet of white light was fired at Hermione. She ducked just in time to see one of the guards who acted as one of lookouts for the Nocturnal League's meeting the previous night advancing toward her.

She took refuge behind one of the towering white pillars, immediately as another curse was blasted towards her. Hermione peered around her makeshift barricade and shot a jet of yellow light at her attacker, though he easily deflected it, while he instead shot three serpents at her. The snakes flew through the air, the fangs barred, until she gestured her wand in a wavy pattern swiftly, making three jets of blue light hit each of the ophidians, causing them to morph instead into three birds. The trio then changed course and flew back at the man, pecking away at his face fiercely, causing scrapes and cuts to decorate his cheeks.

The man screamed and tried to wave them off, hitting one of them with his hand, which caused the other two to increase the viciousness of their attack. Hermione then shot a jet of red light at the man, effectively stunning him, as he fell backward onto the gold tiled floor; Hermione then bound him in thick ropes so he couldn't escape.

After Hermione came out from behind the column she had temporarily resided, she saw that Charlie and Phillip were on the verge of overpowering Terrance, his face screwed up in near defeat.

Suddenly, however, a body collided with hers violently, knocking her onto the ground, causing her wand to fly out of her hand, and making her skirt over the glossy floor, just as the place where she had been standing seconds prior exploded. She looked up and was surprised to see Harry over her.

Wordlessly, he whipping around and fired a round of hexes and jinxes at their assailant, Hermione barely seeing him fly into one of the surrounding pillars, hitting it with tremendous force, as he then fell heard first onto the tiled floor.

"Hermione, are you okay," Harry questioned, helping her to her feet and summoning back her wand.

"Harry, what are you doing here," she gasped out, wrapping him in a light hug, as her shoulder still brimming in pain.

He said, "Kingsley alerted the entire Auror department that there was a situation happening over here in Wales. Hang on, DUCK!"

He pulled her down, making a wave of orange sail over them. They then turned towards its source and shot equally powerful stunners at a man who was staring evilly at them, knocking him into another member of the Nocturnal League, both of them falling onto the floor.

"Some guy named Phillip," he resumed as if there had been no interruption, "apparently told Kingsley that you and Charlie went missing."

"Phillip," Hermione repeated in a breath, "Phillip's over there!"

Before she could point him out, though, a seismic discharge was felt by everyone doing battle, so powerful that the fighting altogether stopped. Hermione felt her entire body reverberate as the detonation came from two spells Sprought and Mulligan fired off at one another.

In the next second, several _creaking_ soundswere heard, as someone, a friend or foe, she didn't know, yelled at the top of his lungs, "THE COLUMNS ARE COMING DOWN!"

Everyone was still for just a moment until a stampede of footsteps made for the exits, departing from Shadowground. Harry grabbed Hermione's wrist just as the first column collapsed, instantly killing three members of the Nocturnal League and two aurors, their bodies nothing more than a pile of broken bones.

As the second column fell, it barely missed Charlie and Phillip, though the force was so powerful that it knocked both of them off of their feet.

"CHARLIE!" Hermione called out, trying to wrench free from Harry's grasp.

"HERMIONE, HE'S ALIVE! BUT WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE!"

She indeed saw that Charlie was still drawing breath, as he and Phillip got to their feet and ran around the collapsed column.

The third pillar fell (crushing the legs of an auror who bellowed out in pain) just as Charlie and Phillip reunited with Hermione and Harry.

"Come on," Charlie stated, grabbing Hermione's hand (with Harry relinquishing her wrist), "let's get out of here!"

"Can' we apparate 'way," Phillip asked, as the party of four ran towards the doors that led back outside.

"No," Harry returned, "Kingsley established anti-apparition wards all over the area."

The fourth column crumpled so close to them that Hermione felt a harsh wind streak down her back. The crash was deafening, as she momentarily lost hearing in her left ear. Feeling her heart hammer after nearly being squashed, they all went outside where they saw that the battle had resumed, bright jets of light brightening the darkened night.

Harry fled off, firing curse after curse at men dressed in black cloaks while Hermione, Charlie, and Phillip stood rooted to their spot as they saw Sprought and Mulligan dueling on the bridge, as the former shoot a ring of fire at the latter. To Hermione's horror, the fire then engulfed the director's entire face, making him scream out in dire agony. He dropped his wand as his body started to spasm, his hands reached up to claw at his face.

Without thinking, Hermione dashed over to him, sensing Charlie and Phillip hot on her heels. Just as they arrived near where Sprought stood watching this ugly sight, Mulligan's face had charred black under the flames that still burned away.

"So long, director," Sprought said before he sent a blasting curse at Mulligan, making him tumble over the side of the overpass where he fell to his death.

The leader of the Nocturnal League turned around and smiled when he saw Hermione, Charlie, and Phillip brandishing their wands at him.

"Nasty fall, wasn't it," he asked teasingly, his thumb pointed to where Director Mulligan had plummeted from.

"You won't get away with this," Hermione stated, shaking from a sudden rage that took hold of her, "Kingsley's seen you now. You're finished."

"You see that's where you're wrong, Miss Granger," he commented, the shouts and yells from hexes and curses being flung around them penetrating their ears, "I'm going to kill every single person here tonight that is not part of the Nocturnal League. And I think I'll start with you!"

Sprought shot a curse over at Hermione so fast that she didn't have time to block it, for what left like a knife plunged into her right shoulder. She screamed out and fell onto her knees as Charlie and Sprought fired spells at one another, making them clash in the air, just as Terrance tackled Phillip from behind, savagely punching him in the face repeatedly.

Hermione's entire right arm went numb as she vaguely heard the rumble of Shadowground's pillars continuing to fall over inside.

She took her wand in the left hand and looked up to see Terrance's fists collide with Phillip's face over and over, blood still trickling down from the wounds he had sustained when Charlie flung him into the mirror back in the basement of Shadowground. For his part, Phillip got gone limp, not even being able to put his hands up to block his attacker; Terrance was beating him literally to a blood pulp.

Hermione shot a jet of red light over at Terrance though it sailed over his shoulder, her left arm not as accurate as her right. He, however, stopped his brutal battering and looked up at her.

He picked himself up from Phillip, Charlie still being focused on his combat with Sprought, and slowly made his way over to her, being just steps away. He then smiled at her, blood dripping off of his chin.

"We can still be together, Hermione," he said to her in a strangely calm tone, "you and I against the world! I can give you anything and everything you could possibly need: money, a beautiful house to live in, intimate satisfaction, and in return, you can give me a home full of kids and pleasure, every night. What more could you possible want?! Of all the women I've slept with, you're the only one for me. That's got to count for something, right?"

He was now standing inches from her, looking passionately into her eyes, as if he was begging her to take up his offer.

"We could go away right now, away from all of this and start a life together tonight! Just take my hand and we'll go!"

Terrance made for Hermione, but he fortunately worked right into what she had in mind, for at that moment, she brought up her knee hard into his groin. He choked out, doubling over while coughing and wheezing from the excruciating pain, curling into a fetal position. His chest was heaving while his eyes bulged outwardly, his face turning green.

She stepped over him and ran over to Phillip who was starting to come to, though he was moaning with discomfort. She then looked up only to see Charlie being blasted backwards by Sprought, who then turned his wand on her. With her arm numb and the imprecision of her left hand, death flashed before her very eyes, it personifying a beautiful woman donned in blinding robes of eternal light.

However, before Hermione could fall into death's clutches, Sprought's stomach burst open like a popping balloon. His face froze for a full minute before his eyes looked down and saw a hole sitting where his stomach should be. Hermione wanted to turn away in disgust but found that she couldn't. His intestines and rugae lay in a splatter of pooling blood before him. He then laughed once before he fell forward and died in pile of his own internal organs. The leader of the Nocturnal League was no more.

Hermione then spotted Kingsley who was standing with his wand pointed to where Sprought had stood moments before. The two nodded at each other as the minister asked, "Okay there, Miss Granger?"

"I'm fine," she returned, "just a little banged up."

He nodded again before disappearing away to finish off the remaining duels.

Charlie made his way over to her, wrapped an arm around her waist as the pair knelt by Phillip, who was blinking his eyes open.

"Char? 'Mione? How did we make out?"

The couple smiled down at him, feeling the weight of Sprought and his Nocturnal League slowly dissipating with the night wind.

"Phillip, are you alright," Hermione asked, as he sat up, resting his palms upon the asphalt of the bridge they were still on.

"Think so," he answered, "bu' my face hurts all over."

"They'll fix you up either at the hospital back on the reserve or in St. Mungo's," Charlie said to him.

"Ya should be one to talk, Char, have you gotten a look at yar nose? It looks like ya don' even have one anymore!"

Unexpectedly, Terrance, one his hands groping his groin area, whipped around, brandishing his wand as he did so.

"PHILLIP MOVE!" Hermione yelled, but it was to no avail. The left half of Phillip Soren's face was blasted off: his eyeball rolled out its now-partly constructed socket, his cheek was gone, revealing raw, red, and ripped muscle tendon while providing a window to see into his mouth, while more than a dozen of his teeth were flung into the air, resembling rice being thrown at a wedding.

Charlie fired a jet of white light at Terrance, but he wasn't the only one, for a second jet of white light was fired as well, both striking him in the neck, making it twist nastily, breaking it. Terrance fell backward, dead.

Hermione looked down at Phillip as she cried out before Charlie gently pulled her against his chest, where her tears started to fall. She began sobbing against him, reeling over the deaths of Director Mulligan and Phillip, both good men who had died horrifically. The ghastly images of Mulligan's face being burned to a charred crisp while Phillip had part of his deconstructed made her wail.

"Shh, Hermione, it's okay," Charlie soothed, rocking her gently as he continued to hold her. "It's okay…we're going to be okay."

She didn't know how long she cried though Harry came by sometime later and rubbed her back consolingly.

"I'm sorry," he said to the couple, "I shot my spell a second too late."

"It's not your fault," she heard Charlie say, "we all had our guard down. Don't blame yourself over this, Harry."

He was silent for a quick moment before he said, "Kingsley wants us all to go to St. Mungo's. You look like your nose is broken, Charlie, and you have marks all over your stomach and side. How's Hermione…is she hurt anywhere?"

They were talking as if she was sleeping between the two of them.

"She was complaining about her back and shoulder before and her right arm feels cold all over."

"Okay, well let's go then. This is a nasty scene. Let me apparate with Hermione, I got a few cuts but nothing more," Harry offered.

"No, I'm going to take her. Harry, she was almost raped earlier by that guy Terrance, over there. I don't want to let her out of my sight ever again. This is all my fault that she's in the state that she's in now," Charlie informed.

Hermione wanted to protest her boyfriend's words but her mouth didn't seem to function; in fact, her whole body was shutting down from over-exhaustion and severe dehydration.

"Charlie, Hermione is-," Harry begun but she didn't hear him finish, for that was when she blacked out.


	27. A Man without Wings

A/N: Hello all! When I initially wrote this chapter, it was way too long (in the neighborhood of 15,000 words); therefore, it needed a hard edit. Some things that were included in my first draft were cut as they were not detrimental to the story. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Now, only one more to go! Thanks for reading.

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Chapter 27: A Man without Wings

The next couple of days passed by in a whirlwind, a 'blink and you'll miss it' type of scenario. For their part, Charlie and Hermione, though undergoing a horrendous ordeal, came out with no life-threatening injuries; Charlie had a broken nose, four cracked ribs, and a punctured lung while Hermione had a dislocated shoulder and a sprained wrist. The healer at St. Mungo's patched them over good as new, though, and it was relatively painless, unlike who they would endure and what they would learn over the next several hours. Harry and Ron fussed over her injuries, Harry skipping two whole days worth of Auror training, while Ron took time off from the shop ('Fred and George send their best wishes for you to heal quickly,' Ron told her).

Edvin, Phillip's father whom Charlie and Hermione had met once before, stopped by the hospital in unmistakable pain, Hermione guessing that he had already learned of his son's unpleasant passing. He wrapped the couple up in a double hug, repeating, "Phillip always liked you two very, very much." It was uncomfortable for Hermione, who had witnessed Phillip's death just feet away, putting a whole in her chest after getting to know him for the past several months; his easy-going personality, his smile, his rather odd, yet understandable speech habit…it was all gone, never to return again. Edvin was now all alone in the world…burying his child, his happiness being evaporated and drowned in his own tears.

Kingsley Shacklebolt announced that he would be stepping down as Minister of Magic as he faulted his own incompetence to lead the wizarding community in Great Britain as he hand-picked Sprought for the role of Senior Undersecretary.

Darren McGill, the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, also announced his resignation, as he cited that he authorized and handed over a portkey to Terrance, who tracked down Hermione and Charlie to Romania, resulting in the death of a house-elf along with the couple's own injuries they incurred down in the basement of Shadowground.

Terrance's father was arrested and sent to Azkaban Prison after evidence was unearthed, displaying his affiliation with the Nocturnal League as well as obstructing their malicious deeds through the façade of his quill order company. Harris, from the Romanian Dragon Reserve, along with Roy and Cope, from the Wales Dragon Reserve, were also arrested, along with twelve others coming from both encampments, and placed in the wizarding prison for being part of the illegal poacher network.

Hermione and Charlie then had to attend a series of questionings lead by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, retelling everything that had happened, starting from the event that took place where Terrance altered Phillip's memory which resulted in the death of Ray Worton, all the way to the battle that took place in Fauella. They were then given a two-week vacation, being told to take some time to heal both physically and mentally after the disaster that had befallen the opening of the new dragon reserve in Wales.

The beginning of their time off was somber, however, as the pair attended funerals of both Phillip and Director Mulligan, whose body was nearly lost to sea. Both affairs had been dire indeed, evidenced with a cold, brittle wind and cloudy skies, the sun hidden from sight, perhaps as it was shedding a few tears of its own, lost somewhere upon its scorching surface. Wormey's body was never recovered, though a pile of ashes was found in Shadowground's basement.

Returning to the Burrow felt strange for Hermione, when she and Charlie apparated there after Director Mulligan's memorial service. They walked hand-in-hand to its front door in silence, both dressed in an elegant black.

They stepped inside and instantly saw that Mrs. Weasley had cooked up a hearty meal for the duo. They thanked her with quiet nods and fake smiles as they sat down and partook in their lunch.

For what it was worth, during their days at the Burrow, Charlie did not let Hermione out of his sight. He seemed so worried and frightened of what had nearly happened to her by way of Terrance that she felt she was sinking under his gaze.

"Charlie, you have to stop staring at me. I'm alright," Hermione told him one night, not looking up from the parchment she was writing upon to Ginny, who had sent her a letter that was rather short, simple, and demanding bearing the words: 'Explain everything to me.' No doubt the numerous articles littering the front page of the Daily Prophet explained how Ginny knew of some of the events surrounding her second-oldest brother and her best friend.

He sighed as he walked over to her sitting at his desk in his room, crouching next to her and putting his face against her chest, breathing in her scent.

As he wrapped his arms around her, making her pause with her reply to the youngest Weasley sibling, he let out, "I can't get rid of him kissing you and then taking you away like that. It's going to haunt me forever."

She set down her quill, not needing to ask who he was referring to, as she ran her fingers through his short, red hair, responding with, "We have to move past this, Charlie. Yes, it was bad, terrible even, but he's gone now. I mean…I don't even want to think about that."

"You're right," he issued out after a moment, peeling his head away to instead look up at her face. He then insisted with pleading eyes, "Come to bed with me, please?"

The corners of her mouth ticked upwards as she answered, "I have to finish this for Ginny. Her letter was quite forceful."

"Finish it in the morning."

"Tempting but…-," however she was cut off.

"Hermione, please lay down with me."

She looked and saw that Charlie needed this…he needed for her to be right next to him, to lie next to him, just to make sure that she wasn't hurt, that she wasn't haunted by the whole ordeal, that she was okay with him. His begging tone had a note of power laced within it that made her set down her quill, as he then grabbed her hand and led her over to his bed. He pulled back the covers as she climbed in and he followed, pulling her flush against his body.

"Aren't you going to turn out the light," Hermione questioned, looking up at his face.

"No," he shook his head softly, "I just want to look at you. I want to make sure that you sleep comfortably and peacefully."

She didn't give any indication that she heard or understood him, yet continued to stare at him, while he did the same with her. Their breaths mingled with each other's, pooling in the tiny space that separated the pair.

To Hermione, it felt as if they had gone through a lifetime together. Never in her wildest dreams did she think that what she and Charlie endured over the past two months would lead to where they were right now, comforting one another in his bed. The time that had passed since they first met was just so surreal to her, almost as if she was living another woman's life from that point on, not being able to take into account how different she was before and after.

Charlie set his hand on her hip, his contact tickling her, while he then pressed a kiss against her forehead. He didn't break it for a long while, as she snuggled closer to him, feeling the warmth radiating off of his firm body. He pulled his bed covers up to their shoulders, as if shielding them from whatever night terrors may choose to make an appearance.

"Charlie," Hermione sounded off lightly.

"Yes?"

"I think it's time."

She could see his face contort into a mask of confusion as he asked, "Time for what?"

She let out a breath before she answered, "I think it's time for me to go and get my parents."

Charlie stilled as he pulled away to look into her eyes.

"Hermione, are you sure?

"I'm positive," she nodded, her voice faltering at the prospect of finally bringing her parents home. "You know how much I miss them; I think about them every single day. I want them back in England."

"When were you thinking about leaving?"

She thought for a bit, and then said, "Tomorrow or the day after."

"How are you going to go about finding them? Sydney is such a big place."

"When I altered their memories, I was actually able to plant into their heads the name of their new dental office so that I would be able to find them when I came looking."

Charlie quirked up a brow as he inquired, "You know how to do that?"

"Well, I don't have any experience with it but I read the theory behind it."

"So what's the name of it, then?"

She smiled teasingly as she stated, "Don't make fun of it, but it's called _Golden Grins_."

" _Golden Grins_ ," he repeated, giving her a queer look.

"Charlie, I said don't make fun of it!"

"I'm not, I'm not! It's just…well…I dunno exactly what it is," he faltered.

"I needed a name I could find them by and it was the first thing that popped into my head."

Charlie looked over at her, his sea blue eyes glittering, a sight Hermione hadn't seen over the past week. It was a testament to how serious the situation they had found themselves in was with ramifications still bleeding into what was now considered the past.

"Well, with a name like that, I'm sure we'll have no problem finding them then."

Hermione huffed making Charlie smile as she shut her eyes and waited for sleep to come. However, before she could drift off, Charlie's voice drifted into her ears.

"You know I'm coming with you, right?"

She peeked up at him and replied, "And you also know that you don't have to, right?"

"But I told you before that I want to."

"Charlie, I don't want you to feel that you're obligated to come with me. I reckon I won't even be gone all that long…maybe four or five days at the most."

"Hermione, you mean a lot to me, especially with what happened with the Nocturnal League and all. I want to be there with you…I want to meet your mum and dad and tell them initially how great their daughter is. Of course we'll then have to explain to them that we're dating and this and that but I'm willing to take the plunge." Hermione tucked down a smile at this while Charlie posed, "So will you let me come?"

She seemed to carefully think over this before she remarked, "What if I said 'no'?"

He shrugged. "Then I'll force myself to accompany you."

"I could leave in the middle of the night."

"Then I'll stay awake," he shot back, clearly unfazed, as it seemed he was enjoying their playful back and forth banter.

"Well if you feel like coming, then I guess I don't really have any way to stop you, do I?"

"Nope, not one bit," he said triumphantly. After a slight pause, he questioned, "So do you think you're going to restore their memories right when you see them?"

"I was thinking about that actually," she responded. "But I don't know for sure. I think the best thing to do is to see them first and then decide later. I mean, I don't think it's logical to pull out my wand in Sydney and suddenly restore their memories in front of many Muggle eyewitnesses."

"No, that probably wouldn't be the best way going about things," he agreed. "Just remember, I'm coming with you."

Hermione smirked as she took back her place against his hard chest, sighing in contentment when Charlie wrapped his arms around her body, caging her against him, it seeming as if he was never going to let go. Soon, the couple fell off into unconsciousness, as the blackness of the night pressed in against his bedroom window. No nightmares partook in their slumber, though images of Phillip passed through both of their streams of sleep, making their hearts pang with hurt (a feeling that would be lost on them come morning).

Many hours later, the two awoke, smiled over at each other, got up and prepared.

* * *

"And you're positive this is it," Charlie asked, his hand clasping Hermione's, who was squeezing his with all of her strength, making it grow numb.

"I'm positive," she said, nodding her head a bit, with a look of awe etched into her features.

The duo were looking up a two-story structure, the top of which had a plain, white façade with the inscription, _Golden Grins_ plastered over its surface which was punctuated with a simple tooth.

"This has to be them," she commented quietly, though more to herself this time.

Hermione continued to look up at her parents' dental practice, a sense of longing and nervousness crashing into her, wondering how much her parents had changed since the last time she saw them over a year ago. No correspondence was issued between the two parties, as her mum and dad had no idea they even had a daughter of their own.

'Are they going to be mad at me,' she asked herself. 'Would they want to come back to London? Would they want to come back with me?'

Suddenly, she felt an arm snake around her shoulders as she soon realized Charlie was pulling her against him, ignoring the strange looks night passerby were throwing in their direction for staring at a supposed random building that held no importance to daily life.

Hermione and Charlie had arrived in Sydney earlier that day and spent hours looking for _Golden Grins_ , asking strangers on the street and even consulting the Muggle United Kingdom Consulate, stopping only for a brief period to eat. The light soon stretched into the dark, as hope of finding her parents' dental practice grew slim, until the pair had stumbled upon it, not even an hour after they polished off their dinner.

"We'll see them tomorrow, Hermione," he whispered into her ear, as she basked in the warmth of his breath.

"I'm nervous," she stated, turning to face him, the tips of their noses nearly touching.

Charlie planted a kiss on her lips, replying, "Don't be."

The pair's eyes then drifted back up to _Golden Grins_ , the warmth of the October night melting away on their exposed skin.

"Come on, Hermione, we'll be back in the morning," Charlie said, guiding her away from the two-story edifice. "Besides, we should get some sleep."

"Are you tired," she questioned, as they walked down a smooth sidewalk towards a Muggle hotel they had spotted whilst eating before.

"Well yeah…we spent nearly the whole wandering around the city," he returned, "that wears a bloke down."

"And this is coming from someone who works with dragons?"

Hermione said this quietly, though unfortunately, a trio of women happened to be passing by them at that very moment.

"Did she say 'dragons'," one of the women asked in a high-pitched tone, looking back over her shoulder.

"I think so," the second woman sounded off, "she sounded British."

"That'll explain it," the last of them said despairingly.

Charlie rumbled out a chuckle with his arm still around Hermione, shaking his head back and forth.

"You'd think they never seen a dragon before," he scoffed, making Hermione giggle.

Some hours later, the pair was lying in bed with not a single article of clothing being worn, its white sheets coming up to their middle, as they looked over at each other. The window of their small room was closed with the curtains drawn, casting them into blackness, though their respective silhouettes remained.

"So how are we going to go about this tomorrow," Charlie asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over them.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we can't just go up to your mum and dad with wands in our hands; they'd surely think we were Brits then," he reasoned, making Hermione laugh loudly. "Brits: the peoples who talk about dragons and brandish wands!"

"No, I guess we couldn't do that," she complied, mirth still evident on her face. "I was thinking about setting up an appointment with them, actually, to schedule a procedure of sorts. I think that'll be the best time that we could get them alone."

She saw Charlie bob his head up and down against his pillow at this.

"And then you'll restore their memories?"

"Yes, I think that'll be the best time. I don't want to stretch this out longer than it needs to go. If I don't do it soon, I'm afraid that I could never bring myself to do it after."

"But don't you want to see your parents again…to have them back?"

"I do but they seem to have settled well here in Australia if their dental office is any indication, and that makes me happy for them."

Hermione then grew somewhat sad at this, thinking of how true her words were: her parents had made a life of their own here in Sydney, without her, without Hermione, without their daughter. On the one hand, she was pleased at this, but on the other, it made her feel irrelevant on the grander scale of what life had to offer with her mum and dad.

Charlie sensed her discomfort for he grabbed one of her hands in his and held it.

"Hermione, your parents will be happy to see you, I'm sure of it. They'll understand that you did what you had to do in order to protect them from the war. Don't kick yourself around for this."

"I know," she responded quietly, laughing once, though it held no humor. "It's just these rubbish thoughts enter into my head and I can't get them out."

"I know a way we can get them out," Charlie supplied, "your 'rubbish thoughts', I mean," he clarified after seeing her confusion.

"How?"

A devilish look came over Charlie then for he then crawled over her, and started by kissing her full on the lips. They then made passionate love (though Charlie performed a contraceptive charm over them this time, Hermione having no idea such a spell even existed), as their bed sheets ruffled off of the mattress and down onto the floor of their hotel room. Charlie thrusted into her relentlessly and succeeded in pushing Hermione over her limit this time, as she clawed his back when she came, their bodies now attuned to what pleasured the other. He followed just moments later, their labored breaths mingling in a sweet harmony, as Charlie rolled off of her though instantly pulled her naked body against his, spooning her.

Charlie was right in informing her that he had a way of getting rid of her 'rubbish thoughts' though that was only temporary. For as his breathing evened out, one arm resting over her and a leg wrapped over her own, thoughts of her parents' happiness without her flooded into her once again. Hermione stared out at the darkness the room provided, staring at nothing in particular, while her head became a jumbled mess. Sleep soon overpowered her, but it was a restless one, her heart telling her that something was off, yet she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.

* * *

The following morning, Hermione awoke and the first thing she did was rush into the room's sole loo, emptying her stomach's contents, which really wasn't all too much, as she had eaten a small dinner the night before and nothing afterwards.

"Hermione," she heard Charlie's strained voice from the other side of the closed door, his first pounding upon its surface. "Hermione, are you okay?"

She responded by throwing up again into the toilet, as Charlie barged his way inside.

"Hermione," he gasped out, as she vomited for a third time, anf he rushed over to her and flushed. "What happened?" His short red hair was ruffled from a peaceful sleep as his eyes were a tad blurry, yet slowly coming into focus; his hands were situated on her shoulders, steadying her, while his face had a concerned look about it.

She held up one finger as she lightly shrugged out of his grasp, went over to the sink, and washed her mouth. When she was finished, she croaked, "I don't feel good this morning. I feel awful."

"Come on," he then issued, taking her hand in his and leading her back to their messy bed, "lie down for a bit and I'll get you a glass of water."

He dashed over to their small kitchenette and filled a glass with a jug of water their room provided them. He hurried over to her and forced her to drink it. When she emptied half the glass, he took it from her and inquired, "Are you feeling any better?"

"A bit," she said, though she still felt horrible; thankfully, however, her stomach seemed to settle for the time being. "I think I'm just so nervous seeing my parents again that I'm overexcited."

"Maybe we should wait a couple of hours before we head off," Charlie inserted, placing his hands on his hips.

"No," Hermione said rather forcefully given her weakened condition, "no, I don't want to wait."

"Hermione, you just threw up in the lavatory and can barely stand on your own. Staying inside for a bit won't hurt; in fact, you might feel better afterwards."

"Charlie, I have to see my parents," she stated, trying to stand to her feet, "I haven't seen them in such a long time."

"No, Hermione," he answered firmly while gently refraining her from standing, "we're going to wait at least another hour. I'll go out and get us some breakfast and then we'll go, okay?"

"Charlie-,"

"Hermione," he said, growing agitated, "just, just stay inside until I get back. Please? Clearly you're not feeling well and I don't want to leave you alone for too long. Can you just stay put for a couple of minutes?"

"It's just overexcitement," she repeated.

"Just wait for me, okay? I'll be back soon."

He bent forward and kissed her forehead before pulling on a pair of boxer shorts, jeans, socks, shoes, and a t-shirt, while running a hand over his hair to make it somewhat presentable. He walked to the door and looked back over his shoulder, lines of worry crisscrossing his face. Hermione nodded at him, wordlessly relaying that she wouldn't leave without him. Taking that as an answer, he left their room.

Hermione sighed at the closed door, her stomach feeling like a jumble of wild pixies that had been captured from the wild and set loose. She took another gulp of water, relishing the feeling of it racing down her throat, cleansing her of the morning's nastiness. After taking several deep, calming breaths, she stood to her feet and once again entered the washroom. She eyed her reflection and noted that it looked as if death had washed over her: her face was ghostly pale, while her mane of hair stuck up at odd ends while a few strands were glued to her cheeks, which were coated in small beads of sweat. Her eyes had sunken further back into her head, while half-purple moons were painted under them.

She leaned against the counter, as another feeling of nausea began to work its way up out of her. She tried holding it in, mentally saying, 'You're okay…you're okay,' but it was lost as her stomach lurched. This time, she was unable to make it to the toilet (even though it was mere feet away), as she retched into the sink.

She groaned as she turned on the faucet and washed it away and then splashing a cool bout of water over her.

'I'm okay, it's just overexcitement,' she rallied, 'that's all it is!'

Hermione then began to wash up, doing so carefully, for she was sure that if she moved too fast that another round of sickness would ensue.

Mere minutes later, after Hermione had changed and downed two glasses of water, Charlie entered back into the room, his hands hosting two dishes and two mugs of tea.

Hermione went over and took the plates out of his grasp as he asked, "How do you feel?"

She answered, "Better, just a little hungry."

"Well good," he responded, setting the two mugs of tea upon a lone coffee table, "I found a free buffet downstairs. I guessed we missed the fact that this place serves complimentary breakfasts. Anyway, I got a lot of fruit and something called anzac biscuits, never had 'em before but they look pretty tasty."

"Thanks, Charlie," she said, as they both sat on the floor across from each other, with the food and tea separating them.

"No problem," he returned, waving his hand in the air, "none at all."

"I threw up again while you were out."

Charlie paused with a grape in his hand, about to pop it into his already open mouth.

"You did?"

Hermione nodded.

"Maybe we should go see a healer around here," he suggested. "I mean, the whole time I've known you, I don't ever recall you being sick. Hurt, yes, but not ill."

"I think it's just nerves. I worry myself too much, I know that."

"Come on, Hermione, does overexcitement cause someone to heave four times in one morning?"

"I'm sure it's happened before."

"To you?"

She shook her head from side to side in answer.

"Maybe I just need some fresh air," she stated then.

Charlie shrugged as he picked up his wand and flung it at a nearby window, causing it to open, and letting in the early morning. Loud noises from surrounding Sydney penetrated their small room though neither seemed to pay it any attention.

"Better," he asked.

Hermione chuckled, "You only opened it a few seconds ago. In time, I'm sure I'll be fine, especially after I see mum and dad."

A now-grinning Charlie voiced, "You know, I'm kind of nervous about meeting them."

"Why," Hermione inquired, her head cocked to one side.

"Well, believe it or not, this is the first time I'm actually going to be introducing myself to a bird's parents as her, you know, as her boyfriend," he regaled, rubbing the back of his neck, though Hermione was sure he didn't know he was doing so. "I've heard some vicious tales from blokes on the reserve where the girl's parents threatened to do some nasty things to them if they ever hurt her, even if it was unintentional."

"Dads can get a bit overprotective," Hermione reasoned.

"You think your dad is going to be like that?"

"Truthfully, yes, because I'm an only child. But you are charming, Charlie, at least I think so."

"You think," he laughed as she nodded in a happy manner. "For some reason, I don't think your dad will feel the same way; just some hunch that I have."

"Don't count yourself out yet, he might surprise you."

After several moments, Hermione remarked, "Things are going to be different when we go back to the Wales Dragon Reserve, aren't they?"

He nodded. "Everything is so upside down with it now, having to find a new director for Romania and Wales, along with a new head for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. That's on top of finding a new minister and senior undersecretary. Plus, we're also a bit short on workers."

"Would they close the reserve in Wales over there not being enough handlers?"

"They might but I doubt it. The whole reason for the new encampment was because Romania was getting too small for the number of dragons there."

"Would you ever consider moving back to Romania if you had the chance?"

Charlie paused at her question, looking at her deeply. This was a query that was gnawing in the back of her head ever since they had left the country behind. Even though he stated before that his passion was for working with dragons, Hermione thought that Charlie also grew in favor of living and working in Romania.

"Hermione, I don't think-,"

"I'm speaking hypothetically," she said, her heart beating quickly while she waited for his answer.

"Truthfully," he started, "I don't think I could go wherever you aren't. Being with you has impacted me even more than I initially realized. If you stayed in England or Wales, I would be right there with you."

"Do you mean that?"

"One-hundred percent," he said back.

Hermione smiled as she nibbled away on pieces of fruit, though she found that she couldn't really taste what she was chewing on. 'Overexcitement, I guess,' she repeated mentally again. Her stomach stayed steady, though there were times it did feel like upending what she had forced down. The one thing that helped calm her overacting nerves was her hot tea, feeling like an ancient medicine as it entered into her system.

"Hmm," she let out, closing her eyes at the relaxing sensation it caused.

"Good," came that of Charlie's voice.

"Very good," she answered, before taking another sip.

After downing his own mug, he started, "So then you know what you are going to say, then?"

She gazed over at him and nodded. "I do. When we get there, just follow my lead."

* * *

Half an hour later, the pair was escaping out of the early-morning October air, it rising in heat levels with each passing minute, climbed an open staircase that was squished between two buildings, before they were soon standing in front of a glassed door that read, ' _Golden Grins, a dentistry clinic by Drs. Wendell and Monica Wilkins_.'

Hermione let out a deep breath, her heart beginning to race faster and faster, while her palms started to gather small beads of sweat.

'This is it…my parents are somewhere in here,' she thought.

"I'll be right beside you, Hermione," Charlie told her, kissing the top of her head.

She looked up at him, smiled, and said, "I know."

Without another word, she then opened the door to _Golden Grins_ , a small bell chiming off, signifying their arrival. Hermione saw that the waiting room of her parents' practice was somewhat small (petite compared to their clinic back in London), as an overly-large fish tank comprised one wall. Leather-black chairs were scattered around two plain, white tables, which had Muggle magazines that topped its surface, names like _The Australian Women's Weekly_ , _TV Week_ , and _FourFourTwo- It's footy, but not as you know it!_ popped up at her.

Hermione, however, marched up to the front desk, placed behind a sliding-glassed pane, to see a round-faced receptionist with curly brown hair that had started to turn grey on the sides.

"Good mornin'," she said sweetly to the pair, "how can I help you?"

"Good morning," Hermione replied back, mustering a smile though her nerves were threatening to take over at any minute, "um, my boyfriend and I," she indicated over to Charlie, who nodded in greeting, "just moved here from London and we were recommended this dental practice by a friend of ours. However, my doctor back in England told me that I had to pull out my back two wisdom teeth soon, as they are giving me some discomfort. Is there a way we could speak to Dr. Wilkins about this issue?"

"Why certainly deary," the receptionist responded kindly. "I'll just have you fill out this form here," she said, grabbing a bulky form and attaching it a clipboard with a pen, "and you can bring it to me when you are finished."

"Thanks," Hermione said, taking a large gulp.

Before she could turn away, however, the receptionist looked down at a large calendar that was coating the top of her desk and said, "I'm sorry to have to tell you this but the earliest convenience we could schedule a meeting with you and Dr. Wilkins will be tomorrow morning; he has appointments all day today."

It was not lost on Hermione that the receptionist only refereed to her father by saying 'he.'

"Oh, um, I don't mind speaking to either Dr. Wendell or Dr. Monica," Hermione returned.

Her heart hammered against her chest, as if it was trying to pound its way out of her own body, as a look of sorrow crossed over the receptionist's face.

"Deary, I-I guess I should tell you this since you are new around here: Dr. Monica died of cancer back in June."

* * *

She remembered running, her shoes slamming against the smooth asphalt as she took back to her hotel room. Men and women dressed in fitting business suits, along with school-children walking with their parents, jumped out of her line of direction; she didn't even hear Charlie calling her name from somewhere behind her.

She also remembered locking herself in the room's lone bathroom, Charlie knocking against it some moments later. She remembered shaking, though no tears had fallen, she remembered Charlie begging entrance, though she didn't allow him in, she remembered her stomach sloshing around, though her didn't vomit.

Now, she was resting her head against Charlie's chest as night rolled by, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes, streaking sideways over her face as they formed a small puddle over the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

The day had passed by in a quick flash, so much so that Hermione had only small recollections of it ever being in existence. She seemed fine when she let herself out of the washroom sometime after she holed herself in it, and even managed to take a long walk with Charlie out in the streets of Sydney. Her stomach felt much better, even after eating lunch and dinner Charlie had brought up to her and they chatted (though the topic of her parents never came up). She was doing fine, really, which was surprising, until she realized that she was in shock. Yet, when that wore off, the tears started to fall.

She sniffled against his chest as he gently stroked her hair, not telling her 'Shhh' or 'Please don't cry' for this was what she had to get out of her system. He wasn't able to offer her any words of comfort or solace and quite frankly, Hermione didn't think that it work on her anyway. They just lay there upon the mattress, the pale moonlight seeping in through the curtains of their room, casting an angelic glow that ghosted over the floors.

It was sometime later that Hermione awoke to Charlie's soft snores rumbling through her. She felt dried tear tracks over her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, yet she didn't mind; it was of a remaining evidence of what she had lost…a mother who was no longer living and breathing.

She unwound her arms from Charlie's middle, careful not wake him, as she then positioned herself to lean back against the bed's wooden headboard, bringing her knees up to her chest, hugging them to her. Her eyes fell upon Charlie, who, even upside down, looked so peaceful when he was drifting away, his lips slightly parted, the back of his hair a bit tousled, his legs spread wide in a V-shape, while his toes curled every several minutes, as if they had minds of their own.

Hermione took this time, in the middle of the night, to think about her mother. Her mind wandered over to when her mum had kissed a paper cut she received on her finger when she was five, courtesy of a reading book; she thought about how her mother had hugged her tight against her chest and comforted her when Hermione came home from Year 1 of schooling crying, her classmates making fun of her Fraggle Rock lunchbox; she also remembered how excited her mum had been when Hermione would visit back home during the summer and winter holidays whilst she was at Hogwarts.

The warmth of her mother's arms around her, the feeling of protection she gave to Hermione, especially when she was a kid, was a sentiment she could never forget, even if she wanted to. Her mum was always there, smiling and proud of her one and only daughter.

However, the inevitable came though when death knocked on her very door, robbing her of one final chance to see a daughter she remembered nothing of. Being too much to handle, Hermione placed her head on her knees and wept.

A minute later, she sensed movement and was eternally sorry that she had woken Charlie. He sighed lightly as he copied Hermione by resting against the headboard, before pulling her into his lap; she complied and before long, he was cradling her against him, as she tucked her head into the crook of his neck, while he rubbed small circles over her back.

"Hermione," he whispered, the darkness acting like a vacuum of noise, "I'm sorry, so, so sorry."

"It's not your fault," she managed. "It's no one's fault."

"Then why do I feel like you're blaming yourself?"

"I'm not…well not anymore," she said, sniffling. "I just can't believe that after taking so many different measures to keep my parents safe, my mum still died, from a Muggle disease. I just can't understand why."

Charlie was quiet for a moment before he said, "When our loved ones pass on, many of us aren't able to grasp the cold truth of why they had to leave us. Many people insist that they should've gone with them, passing into the unknown, this realm of death you could say. But when you think about it, our loved ones didn't leave us behind at all, because one day, we're all going to go, we're all going to pass on. Thinking about what happened to Ray, Phillip, and Director Mulligan, I imagine they're all on an island somewhere, your mum's with them too, yet the only thing that separates us and them is small stream that carries a strong current. One big leap would put us where they are but it just isn't our time to take the plunge."

Charlie kissed Hermione's forehead, letting his lips linger, Hermione momentarily basking in the warmth it provided.

"I just hate the fact that I wasn't able to see her one more time before she left," Hermione stated, choking on a fresh round of tears that welled up in her eyes. "How long did she have to suffer in Australia while I was away, fighting over in England? Did she have no one but my dad to comfort her?"

"Hermione, don't think like that," Charlie responded darkly. "Think about the fact that she's free of her sickness…that she's not in pain anymore; hold onto that thought."

She sighed, wiped away her tears and said, "Charlie, I want to go back home."

He stopped stroking her back and slightly pulled away from her so that he could look into her eyes.

"What about your dad?"

Hermione shook her head, her eyes blurring over from unshed tears. "Maybe it would be best to leave him where he is now."

"Hermione, that's cruel," Charlie reprimanded.

"What about restoring his memories only for me to tell him that his wife's dead?"

Charlie fell silent at this as she pulled off of him and instead sat next to him, letting their shoulder's touch.

"So then you're willing to let your dad suffer alone?"

Hermione looked over at him and asked, "What do you mean?"

"He's hurting, Hermione, I know he is, just like you. Your father lost his wife, just you like you lost your mother, even if they're masking identities that aren't their own. If you restore his memoires, he wouldn't have to go through this alone as maybe he's doing right now."

She looked down into her lap, shaking her head. "I don't think I could bring myself to do it."

"Hermione," Charlie began, "I can't imagine how hard this is for you, but I want you to know that I'll always be here by your side." When she didn't respond, he said, "Do you remember that day in the hospital back on the Wales Dragon Reserve? We woke up after we were rescued from the Brazilian Bastions pen?"

She looked over him, confusion drawn over her face.

"Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"I-I meant to tell you something there that I couldn't bring myself to do. One thing led to another and I never said what I wanted to."

"What did you want to say," she questioned lightly, a tear falling down her face, her eyes red and swollen.

"I," he started but paused, letting out a long breath, his chest rising and falling in uneven patterns. "Hermione, I love you. It's been some time coming, I know, but there's no question in my mind that you're the one for me. Whenever you hurt, I do too. And seeing you like this, it's agonizing, it truly is. I know for a fact that if we leave and go back, you'll regret this moment of being with your dad when you both need each other, now more than ever."

Looks of surprise, understanding, pain, and sadness swept over Hermione at Charlie's words; it was like a revolving door that brought about a new emotion as each pane swept by.

She hung on to Charlie's last words for she then questioned with a murmur, "What if he blames me?"

"How could you possible think like that?" Charlie's tone was raw and thick.

She shook her head again, deciding not to answer.

"Let's just-How about you sleep on it, okay? Don't make up your mind if you want to go back tonight; tell me in the morning. Whatever you choose, I'll be right there beside you, no matter what."

"Would you hate me if I still wanted to go back in the morning?"

"What? No, no, I wouldn't at all. Hermione, I just told you that I'm in love with you, totally and completely. You understand that, right?" When she nodded, he said, "But, wait till morning before you make a final decision. Let's just try and get some sleep."

"I don't think I can sleep," she supplied, "not at all."

"Then I'll say up with you," Charlie remarked.

Hermione then rested her head against his shoulder, her eyes not closing even though she felt exhausted. He rested his head onto hers, their breathing coming together as one. Darkness surrounded them, deepening Hermione's misery while Charlie maintained the pain. The young couple soon dozed off however, the night becoming too much to handle.

* * *

The rays of the sun shone through the curtains of the room, much like that of the moon the previous night, as Hermione found herself in Charlie's arms, her back against his chest. Sometime during their slumber, they had managed to sink down back onto the mattress, their head sharing one pillow, the bed sheets strewn somewhere on the floor. One of his muscled arms was wrapped securely around her chest, locking her in place, while his legs were tangled with hers.

However, one single thought was on Hermione's mind at that point in time: the bathroom, for a wave of nausea was sweeping over her yet again. She shimmied her way out of Charlie's firm grasp, feeling his hard morning arousal within his boxer shorts against her bum, making him moan in his sleep, before she managed to break free and rush into the loo.

She vomited again, into the toilet three times before Charlie flew inside, clear worry deep over his face.

When she finished, he said, "Hermione, I think we should stop by somewhere and see a doctor. You've been sick both mornings we've been here so far. This might be something serious."

After she rinsed her mouth, she shook her head at him, vetoing the idea. "I think I'm just overwhelmed by everything…that's all it is."

"Maybe but it wouldn't hurt to check, right?"

"Not this morning."

When Charlie opened his mouth to protest, she cut him by saying, "I decided that I'm going to restore my dad's memories."

Charlie's mouth snapped shut at this resolution, while he stared over at Hermione, the pair still standing in the lavatory before the mirror.

"Is this what you truly want? I mean, you're not just doing it because of what I might say," he inquired, taking a step closer to her.

"I don't know exactly what I want, but I feel that this is the right thing to do," she responded, taking a step closer to him.

"I'll be there, Hermione, I'll be there right next to you. You know that, right?"

She nodded. "I do."

* * *

After filling out the paperwork the receptionist tried to hand Hermione the day before ("I'm sorry but I suddenly felt very ill," Hermione had told her. "Yes, you did seem to be turning a bit green," was her response), she and Charlie were sitting across from Dr. Wendell, who asked, "Dear, are you alright?"

Charlie looked to his right and saw that Hermione was crying.

Seeing that she unable to answer, Charlie turned back to the dentist (who was around his own height, with broad shoulders, a friendly face, with a mop of brown hair that was beginning to recede back over his head) and stated, "She has pretty severe allergies, Mr. Wendell, um, we're meant to check-in with a doctor later this afternoon."

"Those are some strong allergies indeed. You said you're from England," he asked, looking at Charlie.

"That's correct."

He nodded in understanding. "Yes, well I heard from a number of patients that have moved here from England that have these same problems," he clarified, pointing the tip of a pen he was holding over at Hermione. "The weather over there is a nasty thing to deal with most of the year, just horrid."

"It's not so bad," Charlie defended lightly.

"Maybe not, but Australia does offer a lot more sunshine, doesn't it?"

Charlie started to say, "I guess-," before he stopped, for Wendell Wilkins's eyes suddenly glazed over.

Confused, Charlie turned to Hermione who had her wand out and was waving it silently at her father.

He stayed quiet and watched the process with trepidation. When Hermione was finished, Wendell's eyes came back into focus, looking extremely confused. His gaze skirted around the room they were in before falling on his one and only daughter.

In doing so, his eyes bulged as he said, "Hermione?"

Without waiting another second, she pushed back the chair she was sitting in, it scraping loudly across the floor, as she ran around the desk separating the two parties. Her dad stood to his feet and held out his arms, Hermione flinging herself into his embrace.

Charlie heard Hermione sobbing uncontrollably while her father soothed her, trying to quiet her down.

After some minutes, they pulled apart, as her father's eyes then fell on Charlie.

"Um, I don't mean to be rude but who are you?"

Charlie stood to his feet smiling, feeling better that Hermione was able to restore her dad's memory.

"Dad," she began, guiding him around his desk, "this is Charlie Weasley."

"Weasley," her father repeated, the pair shaking hands, "I heard that name before."

"He's the second-oldest brother to one of my best friends, Ron Weasley."

"Oh, that's right," he clapped loudly once. "Ron!"

Hermione smirked (the first time she's done so for a while), as she went on, "Yes, well, Charlie and I…well, we're dating…he's my boyfriend."

At this, Hermione's dad stood to his full height, eyeing Charlie with a great sense of mistrust.

"Dating? Hermione, darling, I think you're a bit too young for that, don't you think?"

She blushed scarlet as Charlie intervened, albeit a little weary, "Mr. Granger, if I may, I never met anyone like your daughter before. She's intelligent, kind, funny, and puts others before herself; she's flipped my world upside down completely. I would never hurt your daughter nor treat her with anything but the respect she deserves. But, I love her, I told her last night that I do. It's something that I never said to anyone, apart from family, before."

Mr. Granger looked over at Charlie, seeming to trying to decipher if he was speaking the truth and nothing but it. He then gazed over at Hermione, who gave him a nod paired with an encouraging smile.

"Well then," he said after a brief pause, "it seems like we'll most likely be getting to know each other over the long haul, Mr. Weasley."

"Please, call me Charlie."

He nodded once in understanding before he looked over at Hermione.

"Pumpkin, meeting Charlie is great and all, and I love seeing you again, but where is your mother?"

* * *

The tombstone took refuge under the shade of a large tree, its branches stretching overhead, casting a darkened shadow where the trio was standing.

Back in _Golden Grins_ , Hermione told her dad everything (beginning with modifying his memory), finishing with the fact that his wife and her mum had passed on. It was an emotional moment, Mr. Granger not believing the words, not processing anything that he was being told. That was until Hermione brought in his receptionist (Hermione explained to her that she was a distant relative to the dentist, as being his daughter would bring about questions that would not be easy to answer), did he believe it. He had broken down, throwing his face in his hands while Hermione tried to comfort him the best she could, Charlie hopelessly lost in what to do.

Hermione then decided that they should visit her grave, asking directions on how to get there from the receptionist, while Charlie logged to stay back in the hotel, deciding this was more of a family affair, though Mr. Granger, surprising both Charlie and Hermione, insisted he come with them.

There they now stood, looking down on the grave that read 'Monica Wilkins, 1945 – 1998'.

Hermione and her father had their arms around each other, tears running down both of their faces while Charlie remained silent, feeling for the father-daughter duo, the last of the Grangers.

After some time, Hermione bent down, and looked around. Seeing no one in sight, she took out her wand and waved it at the headstone, making 'Monica Wilkins' morph into 'Helena Granger.'

Charlie also bent forward on his knees, brandished his own wand and moved it in a circle, making a green wreath appear, adorned with ruby-red roses, leaning against the white tomb.

"Thanks," Hermione whispered with a sniffle, fondly looking at his creation.

In return, he leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

Suddenly, Mr. Granger then came down, taking a seat on the grass beside Charlie.

The wind blew around them, a stagnant heat about it, as Hermione was thankful for the large tree they were under.

"I can't go back, you know that right," Mr. Granger suddenly commented, making Charlie look over at him.

"I thought you would say that," Hermione replied, Charlie then turning his head to look over at her.

He hesitated and then asked, "Y-You're going to stay here, sir?"

"Please don't call me that, Charlie, I feel old enough as it is. Just Dan, if you please."

"Sorry, sir, uh, I mean Dan," he corrected.

He didn't seem to pay attention for he went on, "I can't return to England without my beloved Helena; I just…I can't do it."

"You're going to stay," Hermione questioned.

He nodded, "I'm going to stay. I'll keep up with this identity you created for me, Wendell Wilkins, and continue my work in _Golden Grins_."

By now, Hermione was looking over at her father, a depressed look about her, though no tears fell.

"I'm so sorry," she finally ushered out.

Dan looked over at her and said, "Honey, none of this is your fault, don't you even think that for a second."

"You don't deserve this…your whole life is back in London."

He managed a small smile. "It was…my life was back there, but now, I'll only be where your mother is. You need to go back though. You need to start living…after all, you're only young once."

"I'm going to miss you," she said.

At this, she got up and sat next to her dad, throwing her arms around him again, as he did the same to her.

"It'll be different this time, pumpkin," he tried to calm her, as her shoulders were shaking now, "you know you can contact me whenever you want to. We can always visit each other as well. We have each other, and that's all that matters."

Hermione pulled away, her eyes a deep red.

"I'm sorry…I'll love you forever," was her final words to her father.

With her wand in her hand, Charlie knew what Hermione was going to do just seconds before she completed her actions. He tried to stop her yet his voice died in his own throat. Hermione pointed her wand at her father as he stilled. She concentrated hard, her eyes never leaving Mr. Granger's face.

Then, as soon as she had begun, she finished, quickly pocketing her wand, and standing to her feet as Charlie did the same.

Mr. Granger then stood to his feet and looked around curiously, before he turned around, letting his gaze fall on the young couple.

"I'm sorry, I seemed to have lost my way," he laughed sheepishly, "I don't recall how I came to be here. I probably wandered over to you two when you were visiting a relative, sorry about that."

He then squinted towards the tombstone they were still by and read off, "Helena Granger…what a lovely name."

Then without another word, Mr. Granger, now a man with a completely new identity, walked away, and out of Hermione's life until his death just one year later.


	28. A Weasley Winter

A/N: Well, here we are, at the end of my story "Nocturnal." I sincerely want to thank everybody that came along this journey with me, especially those readers that favorited and followed this beast the day it was initially posted. I also want to thank everyone who took the time to leave a review, as it means a lot! I hope you enjoy the final chapter to "Nocturnal" as this is it...there will be no sequel as one isn't needed. I do have another story cooking up in my head of a Charlie/Hermione pairing, though I'm unsure as to when I will start posting it. Before you leave, let me know your thoughts (the good, the bad, and the ugly) of this chapter and/or my story overall. And thanks for reading!

\- November 22, 2016 - March 30, 2017

* * *

Chapter 28: A Weasley Winter

Food was piled high atop of the kitchen table of the Burrow, towering over those who were eating away in a frenzy, devouring Mrs. Weasley's Christmas Eve dinner, one she had spent all day preparing, with the aid of Hermione, Ginny, and Fleur, the latter of who kept flicking her long, silvery-blonde hair over her shoulder every time she moved about, much to the annoyance of the Weasley matriarch.

The Burrow was nearly overflowing with guests, as the entire Weasley family had come together, along with Hermione and Harry. Conversation flowed easily enough, bubbling up to a steady roar, as Hermione was tucked next to Charlie, who was debating Ron on Quidditch fouls.

"Oh, come on Charlie! Blagging isn't that bad," the youngest Weasley son said over the table, a bit of lamb flying out of his mouth.

"Speak for yourself," Ginny intervened before Charlie could answer. "You try catching the golden snitch when a Slytherin is holding onto your broom's tail!"

As Harry entered the fray, Hermione mentally rolled her eyes, though she was thoroughly enjoying the company of who she considered her second family.

Times were hard for her after she and Charlie left Australia, as her decision of altering her dad's memory for the second time weighed heavily upon her. On the one hand, she felt that if her father remained a Granger, the death of his wife and her own mum would depress him far beyond what she wanted him to endure. After all, he was going to be the only family member to remain in Australia, as Hermione would have to come back to England.

Yet, on the reversal, changing him back into Wendell Wilkins would yet again plunge her dad back into sorrow, for his 'wife,' Monica Wilkins, had passed on. It was a situation in which Hermione could not win and she constantly wondered if she made the right decision in doing so.

Charlie had been her rock during this period, though, holding her together far better than she could ever manage for herself. He held her every night that she cried, rubbing small circles over her back and offering her strong words of comfort. She was grateful for his presence and loved waking up next to him every morning.

Suddenly, Hermione felt a sharp elbow jab, scattering her thoughts. She looked over and saw that Ginny was eyeing her, while Charlie, Harry, and Ron had moved on to what the actual rules of Quidditch were.

"So when can I see your new house," the youngest Weasley asked.

Hermione grinned. "Whenever you want, really. Charlie and I are staying here tonight and we'll be here most of the day tomorrow but after that, you can come over anytime."

"I still can't believe you and Charlie bought a house together," Ginny exclaimed, shaking her head from side to side in adoration. "You two are acting like a married couple! I mean, you two aren't married, are you?"

Hermione stifled her laughter in order to not draw attention to herself, responding, "No, we're not married, nor are we engaged."

"You know what mum asked me earlier, right after breakfast? You're going to lose it when you find out," Ginny began, eyeing her mother down at the far end of the table, engrossed in a conversation with Bill.

"What did she say?" Hermione was weary yet her curiosity was piqued.

"She wanted to know if I thought you and Charlie were sleeping in the same bed."

Hermione, who unfortunately had taken a sip of her Pumpkin Juice at this time, started choking, alerting Charlie who thumped her lightly on the back, before patting her gently.

"Are you okay," he inquired, looking over at her in mild concern.

"She's good, don't drown the poor girl Charlie," Ginny answered.

Hermione smirked as she said, "I'm fine, thanks," and coughing once more.

He flashed her his boyish smile before returning to Harry and Ron, resuming their Quidditch discussion.

Hermione then turned back to Ginny and questioned, "Your mum really asked you that?"

"Yes," Ginny said in a dramatic fashion. "I mean, honestly, that's exactly the sort of picture I needed in my head so early in the morning! Ugh!" She shuddered.

"You find that repulsive," inquired Hermione, quirking up one brow.

"Listen, I love how you and Charlie are finally dating; why you didn't tell anyone earlier when we pretty much all knew is your own business, but he's my brother. It's just ghastly to me!"

"Which is the exact reason why I'm the one dating him."

"You surprised us all, Hermione. Mum was beginning to worry that Charlie would die in the arms of a dragon and not another human being."

"She doesn't approve, does she, of Charlie and I living together?"

Ginny shrugged. "If she knew you two were sharing the same bed, probably not. I don't know how much she actually knows though. There's been an understanding that my brothers and I share, especially now since we are all older: what don't let mum know what each other is doing. If she found out half of the stuff we hid from her, she'd probably lock us all in our rooms, you and Harry too!"

"I hate keeping things from her though," Hermione protested. "She's like my second mother." At these words, Hermione's heart panged with hurt, knowing that her real mother was forever gone.

"Look at it this way, Hermione," Ginny started, "if you don't tell her what she doesn't need to know, you're technically not lying to her."

"No but I am keeping things from her still."

"Oh don't worry about that," Ginny waved her hand in the air haphazardly, "we all are."

Hermione paused for a beat, staring over at Ginny, and then queried, "So then what is your secret?"

The tips of her ears blushed scarlet, something Hermione has never seen before, as the youngest Weasley leaned in her head and responded in with a sigh, "Harry asked me to marry him."

"WHAT?!" Hermione screamed at the top of her lungs, something she hadn't meant to do, however, the entire table fell silent, as every eye in the vicinity looked over at the pair.

Hermione felt her own face flash as she heard Ginny whispering beside her, staring down at the floor, "Please swallow me up, please swallow me up."

"What was that about," Ron asked, the first one to break the awkward silence.

"Um," Hermione stuttered, as she had a feeling that Ginny might pass out at any second, "Ginny was telling me that Luna Lovegood was engaged."

Excited chatter broke out amongst the table guests, Hermione mentally smacking herself for coming up with such a ridiculous story.

"Who is she engaged to, Ginny dear," Mrs. Weasley called down.

"I think it was a Muggle fellow," she piped back, her voice abnormally high, a trait her mother picked up on. It seemed all of her brothers did as well, for they were looking at their sister abnormally, another quiet falling over the rowdy group.

This was broken however when Victoire suddenly threw a handful of pudding across the table that splattered over Fred's face. He and his twin looked stunned for several seconds, as the oldest Weasley grandchild emitted a high-pitched giggle. Soon after, Fred and George joined in, which affected Bill and Fleur. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley followed, of which the hilarity took to Charlie and Ron, as even Percy grinned. However, Hermione, Ginny, and Harry all seemed exempt from the funniness.

"You told her," Harry guessed with terror.

"I'm surprised you didn't, actually," Ginny returned before she trained her attention on the witch in question, saying, "and thank you Hermione, for making me nearly faint at the thought that I would be telling my entire family on Christmas Eve that I was engaged to Harry Potter."

"Sorry," she muttered, laughing in a shaky manner, her mouth set in a frown.

"Hermione," Harry started, making sure no one else was paying attention, "you can't tell anybody about this. You shouldn't even repeat it to Ginny later on."

"Okay," Hermione said.

"No, swear to it," Harry retorted.

"What am I, five? I promise I won't tell anyone," she ushered back. She then faced Ginny and remarked quietly, "This is so exciting! Congratulations!"She ignored Harry's heavy sigh and the rolling of his eyes.

"Thanks," Ginny smiled.

"So when and where and how?"

"Well, Harry and I have been writing letters back and forth to each other ever since I went back to Hogwarts. Remember I told you that I didn't get back together with him when he asked me before?" Hermione nodded as she recalled Harry tried to get back together with Ginny the night before she returned to the ancient school of magic, yet she turned him down. "He stopped by Hogsmeade several times during our weekend visits and we spent time together there. One thing led to another, more letters were exchanged and more visits to Hogsmeade were made, then he proposed two days ago."

"Did he give you a ring?"

"It's upstairs under my pillow. I'll show you after we finish down here," she told Hermione excitedly, her eyes lighting up like a candle would a dark room.

"Have you set up a date yet or is it too early?"

"Not yet but it definitely has to be after I finish Hogwarts. I was thinking a summer wedding around his birthday would be nice, kind of like Bill and Fleur's."

"Any ideas on when you are going to tell your mum?"

"Oh, that won't be for a while yet," Ginny regaled. "Knowing her, she would start planning the flower arrangements tomorrow. I'm actually trying to pair it with Ron's confession that he dropped out of Auror training."

At this, Hermione huffed and said, "Honestly, I can't believe he hasn't said anything yet! Your mother's reaction will get worse the longer he waits."

"Oh, good, then my news won't seem so infuriating!"

Hermione smirked as she tucked a loose strand behind her ear. "Ginny, I wouldn't call your news to marrying Harry 'infuriating,' especially not to your mum. She thinks of him as a second son."

"Even so, she'll probably still give me a lecture on how I'm too young to wed and all this other rubbish. She likes Harry a lot but I know she would prefer that we waited until we were a bit older, which would be rich coming from her seeing that she married dad right out of school. Anyway, enough about me! How's Charlie settling into his new position?"

"He likes it," Hermione answered, "he likes it a lot. Being the director of the Wales Dragon Reserve gives him more flexibility with his time. Sometimes he'll spend half of the day with me while other times he spend the entire day with me. I like it like that."

"And how's your book coming along?"

"That's going well, too. I like the freedom of being able to write wherever I want; I can do so at home, or write in a Muggle park, and I have recently enjoyed stopping by the dragon reserve and taking down some notes there."

"That sounds so…so liberating," Ginny sighed dreamily.

"It is but it takes a lot of patience, especially when it comes to authoring a textbook. I mean, I can't just jot down small notes on wand movement, I have to carefully explain the theory and methodology behind it. I also have to cater to different ages which is an entire matter all unto itself."

Ginny shrugged. "You're Hermione…I'm sure you'll figure through a way to do it."

"Yeah it just takes some time," she agreed.

Some minutes later, after dessert had been depleted, many family members retired to the living area, though Ginny and Hermione retreated up the steps and into her room. Shutting the door behind them, the youngest Weasley rushed over to her bed, dragging Hermione along in her wake, before they both sat upon her mattress. Ginny then reached behind one of her pillows and pulled out a small, squared box, coated in crimson red that was smooth to the touch.

She then popped open the top for Hermione to see and when she did so, she gasped, her eyes growing wide, while her hands covered her oval-shaped mouth.

"Ginny…it's beautiful," she said after a full minute of staring down at the ring. The band was woven in fine silver while a round-cornered square adorned its top, made of glittering diamonds and sparkling stones that cast a dazzling rainbow display over any solid object it was pointed at.

"This must've cost a fortune," Hermione commented.

"I know," Ginny replied, sounded a tad down-spirited. "I told him it was too much but he insisted that I take it. I couldn't say 'no' because it's so beautiful and I love him very much. I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with him."

Hermione grinned at Ginny growing emotional, a feat she never fell victim to before, as they shared a hug.

"I'm happy for you two," Hermione said in her ear, "you two make a beautiful couple."

"Thanks," Ginny replied as they pulled away. "You and Charlie aren't so bad yourself, even if he is my brother." After Ginny tucked her engagement box away, it being protected by one of her pillows, she commented, "You know, I'm a little surprised Charlie hasn't popped you the question yet."

"Well, we haven't really known each other all that well; we only started since the summer. You and Harry, on the other hand, you've been around each other since you guys were kids."

"Yes but you and Charlie dated longer than Harry and I had," Ginny countered. "We were in a relationship for only a couple of months at the end of my fifth year."

"That's official dating, but you two knew of each other's feelings and reciprocated for over a year afterwards. It's been a while with you two," Hermione finished.

"While that's true-," Ginny started yet stopped for suddenly, a raw scratching noise was heard by the two girls. It sounded rather familiar to Hermione, while Ginny looked around in a perplexed manner.

"Where on earth is that ruddy sound coming from," Ginny asked, standing to her feet and roaming over towards her closet, peeking in its halfway open door.

She, however, was looking in the wrong place, for Hermione's eyes fell upon a piece of parchment that was charmed into the shape of a dragon, as it tried with all of its might to squeeze under the small space between the bottom of the room door and the floor.

"It's from Charlie," Hermione smiled, as she hurried over to the parchment dragon, making Ginny spin around.

"Charlie," his sister repeated, sounding confused, as Hermione helped the animated sheet of parchment fully enter inside. Once it did so, it zoomed upwards, circled around Hermione's head, as she heard Ginny gasp in surprise, before it settled upon her right shoulder, gently nuzzling against her cheek.

"What is that," Ginny inquired, pointing a finger.

"One of Charlie's creations, a parchment dragon," Hermione responded lightly. She then took the charmed animation in her hands, unfolded it and read, ' _Meet me in Amata._ '

She smiled at his simple note, his words holding a trace of mystery that was riddled against this cold winter's night.

"Is Charlie trying to steal you away from me," came the sound of Ginny's voice.

Hermione looked over at her and nodded in silence.

"Well don't let me keep you," she told her, "I should go find Harry."

"And do what," questioned Hermione, pulling on a warm jacket.

"I'm just going to give him a memorable Christmas Eve," she said simply, "nothing more and nothing less."

The pair laughed together as they exited the room, making their way down the stairs. As Hermione passed by the living area, she saw two couples, one comprising of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and the other of Bill and Fleur, as they danced away to the soft, crooning sounds of Celestina Warbeck, her voice sounding like it was its own choir of angels. The fire in the grate was dying slowly, though the large Christmas tree in the corner of the room provided all the light they needed, the two dancing pairs being mindful of skirting around the large pile of presents that had already found its way under it already.

Ginny stopped in the kitchen, seeing Harry and Ron pouring over _Which Broomstick?_ , staking out new advertised models.

Hermione waved to Ginny who returned it as the former then stepped outside into the frosty, night air. When she did so, she realized that it had started to snow lightly, which Hermione rendered a bit odd for this time of year.

She then hugged herself, feeling the cold bite away at her skin (as she left her face uncovered) as the lights protruding from the towering Burrow behind her acting like a beacon, a guide of sorts, showing her the way to a darkened Amata nestled some yards away.

Hermione continued to walk over, her shoes squishing over the slippery grass in which small flecks of white had begun to collect within.

The door of the Burrow opened and then closed, as Hermione spotted two shadowy figures taking off towards the family shed, hand-in-hand, she having no doubt that the silhouettes belonged to Ginny and Harry. She rolled her eyes as the couple made their way inside it, giggling like school-children out to prank their teacher, and slamming its door shut to the outside world, casting the grounds into a deathly quiet, save for Hermione's quiet breaths.

She was nervous and rightfully so for she was harboring a secret, a hidden key that she locked away deep inside of her. No one knew of it, not even Charlie, though she planned on telling him in Amata, for this was a mystery she couldn't keep covered for very long, nor would it be fair for the people involved. She had masked this private information quite well at dinner, as Ginny's announcement of Harry's proposal made her momentarily forget what she was closeting. Now, however, after keeping this to herself for the better part of the past month, she decided it was long enough.

Hermione then entered between the two thick trees that acted as an improvised gateway to her and Charlie's private hideaway. She looked around in the dark, seeing the shapes of the surrounding trees that spoke of the perimeter, the continuing snow fall resembling small sugar flakes, drifting lazily downward in soft spirals, though the heavy coverage overhead of entwining branches blocked out the snow from penetrating inside Amata.

"Charlie," she called out quietly, her voice reverberating quietly around, bouncing off of the thick bark of neighboring trees.

"Close your eyes, Hermione," his voice suddenly said from the shadows, "and don't open them until I tell you."

"Charlie, what is this all about?"

"Trust me, Hermione…just close your eyes," he repeated.

She did as she was instructed, shutting her eyelids to the world, her vision nothing but total blackness. A second later, though, bubbles of light popped into existence, making Hermione wonder what on earth Charlie was doing. The cold air swirled around her still, as she sensed Charlie step up behind her, and wrap her in his warm embrace, hugging her against his chest.

"Okay, open them," he whispered down into her ear.

She did and then gasped: the trees making up Amata were all cast in a dazzling display of multi-colored Christmas lights, blinking merrily about. Dozens of different strands wound themselves in between branches and decorated a flurry of leaves, reflecting off of the waters of the small pond below, its stillness bearing similarities to a thin layer of glass. Hermione thought that their secluded getaway looked magical.

"It's beautiful," she opted to say instead, turning to look over her shoulder.

She saw that he was smiling at her reaction, as they shared a sweet kiss on the lips.

He then led her by the hand atop of the slab of rock they both sat countless times, as Hermione noted there were two steaming mugs placed there already.

"Is this a date of sorts," she questioned, motioning towards the soft stream billowing up from the cups.

He shrugged. "Take it however you would like, but for me, it's spending some quality time with the woman I love with a little bit hot cocoa."

"Smooth," she jested.

"I try to be."

They then took their seats with the mugs in their hands, leaning against each other, Charlie wrapping one of his arms around her shoulders. Hermione took the time to look over at him, downing a sip of the sweetened beverage, and saw that his cheeks were flushed with a rosy red, while his blue eyes sparkled with contentment; his mouth was formed into a warm smile, while his short, red hair was combed off to one side; she also could just spot the beginning of his freckles along his neck, before the rest were scattered somewhere underneath his navy blue sweatshirt.

"How are you, Hermione," he abruptly asked.

Puzzlement coursed through her before she said back with hesitancy, "Um, what do you mean?"

He fixed his eyes on her and clarified, "I mean, how are you holding up? You haven't spoken much about what happened back in Australia."

She let out a sigh before answering with, "What's done is done. There are times that I regret what I did but then there are other moments where I feel like I made the right choice."

"You know I had a dream about him the other night; your dad, I mean."

"You did?"

He nodded. "It was…strange, really, he blamed me for taking you away from him. It was quite unnerving."

"You know that's not true."

"I know, it just seemed so real."

"My dad used to tell me that danger is more real in the dark, only because we can't readily prepare for it."

"Wise words to the even wiser," he commented softly, making Hermione scoff in good spirits. After another peaceful moment, where the couple sipped their cocoa, he supplied, "You know you mean a lot to me, don't you?"

"I do."

H nodded his head at her words, as if he needed her to make sure that she knew how much importance he carried within him of her.

As a comfortable silence then overtook them, Hermione mentally propagated, 'Tell him now, it has to come out sooner or later. But I would hate to ruin this special moment he took the time to set up.'

Hermione wrestled against her inner being and self-consciousness, wanting and needing to tell Charlie what she been keeping from him for a month, yet not wanting to disturb and corrupt his Christmas Eve.

After another moment's thought, she decided he had a right to know, more so than anybody else; she would take on whatever consequences that would surely be thrown her way afterwards.

"Charlie," she began, making him look over at her, his face once again masking that of someone who looked vastly younger than twenty-six, "there's something that I've been meaning to tell you."

He briefly looked surprised but then turned towards her, giving her his full and undivided attention.

She looked over at him, gulped, and remarked, "You're going to be mad."

"What," he queried over with a small laugh and grabbing her free hand, "why would you think that?"

"Because I've been keeping something from you."

They two didn't break eye contact, though their breathing increased exponentially, Hermione so much so that she felt as if she was suffocating over freezing waters that began to pile over her head.

"I-I can't do this," she said then, pulling her hand out of his hold, setting down her mug, and walking off the slab of rock.

She heard the tiny _clink_ of Charlie setting down his own cup upon the hard surface as he followed her, grabbed her hand, and gently spun her around towards him before she could escape Amata.

"Hermione, you're worrying me."

She blew out a breath and stated, "I'm worrying myself."

"Why can't you just tell me?"

"Because I'm afraid," she relented. "Everything was so perfect until now, that I'm afraid I messed everything up."

Charlie looked down into her eyes, blue mixed with brown, as he then pulled down and planted his lips over hers, capturing them. Their mouths moved against each other's with a hungry need, he pinning her against one tree, as he placed his hands against its trunk, effectively trapping her. She wound her arms over his wide shoulders, wanting to feel him against her, as he seemed to trying to erase her insecurities with his snog.

They pulled apart after a minute, and shared a breath with each other, Hermione's hands coming to rest on his hard chest.

He then placed his over hers and said a little breathlessly, "Nothing you can say will change how I feel about you. You know that, right?"

She nodded after a moment, her head still spinning from the kiss she just shared with him, totaling winding her.

"Don't be worried," he told her. "Don't be worried at all."

Hermione looked up at him and saw that his look was genuine. She gulped for a second time, drew in a cold breath and announced, "Charlie, I'm pregnant."

He stood stock still for a full minute, unblinking, as she thought for a harrowed beat that he stopped breathing while his mouth hung open.

"Charlie," she said, patting him gently, "Charlie?"

He closed his eyes, opened them, closed them again, and opened them, looking as if he just risen from the dead and was trying out how well his face functioned.

"Y-Y-You're, y-your'e sure," was the first thing he said, his tone akin to a family member asking for reassurance from another that a close relative of theirs had passed away.

Hermione nodded as alarm then flooded over his features, pulling away from her, taking several steps backward.

"This is all my fault," he stated, bringing a closed first against his forehead and banging it. "I can't believe how daft I was!" He shook his head from side to side and murmured, "This can't be happening…this cannot be happening."

"Charlie, stop," Hermione said, walking towards him. "This isn't your fault so don't you go and blame yourself."

"Hermione, how can you…how can I…we did…back there…and…I'm going to be a father?!" He rubbed his eyes with his palms as she heard him regale like a mantra, "I'm dreaming…this is all just a big dream, and I'll wake up…that's it, isn't it! All just one big dream!"

"Charlie, stop it," Hermione reiterated. "You're not dreaming. I'm pregnant and you're the father."

He looked her strangely, and then questioned in a whisper, "We're going to…we're going to have a baby? You're serious?"

She let out a breath as tears welled up in her eyes. "Yes."

Seeing her start to break down snapped Charlie out of his dream-like state, for he rushed over to her and wrapped her securely in his arms.

"Charlie, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she cried into his chest, her shoulder shaking against him.

"Hermione…Hermione please…please don't cry," he stammered, still feeling lost with her announcement, hugging her tighter to him.

"We, we were both s-silly," she wept, sniffling. "We didn't, you know, we didn't-,"

"Use any protection," he finished quietly.

Her answer was another sob, making Charlie place one hand on the back of her head, cradling it, while his other arm was wrapped around her back.

"Hermione, please," he voice begged, aching with hurt, "please don't blame yourself for this. I should've known better."

She sniffled again and pulled her head away from him to look up into his face.

"You…do you regret it?"

"No," he answered after a quick moment, seeming completely floored at her question, "no, I don't regret it at all, but I don't think we're ready to be parents, Hermione. You're only nineteen. I feel like a rabid animal, that I broke something that's so fragile."

"It was both of us, Charlie," Hermione said with a slight whimper. "I wanted it, but not this," she corrected, looking down at her stomach, "at least not this early. We're both to blame."

"I feel like I can't apologize enough," he reasoned. "I mean, can I be honest with you?"

She nodded.

"Before, I was planning out the rest of my life in my head, and you were there, and we had a family together, but that was sometime down the line; never did I even think about this coming so soon. I wanted to do so much with you, Hermione, to travel to different places around the world, and enjoy my time with you, just the two us, not having to be weighed down by a child or being parents. Now I feel that that's all been taken from us."

Hermione saw that a look of sadness had crept over Charlie's face, momentarily aging him. He then sighed, letting his shoulders sag down, letting gravity take effect.

"It wasn't supposed to happen this way," Charlie let out.

Hermione wiped away at her eyes and replied with a hint of finality, "But it did. Now we have to accept that fact and move on."

"You're not mad?"

"No, not mad, I mean, I did know about this for a month already."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought you would be mad. And I was scared of your reaction."

"What did you think I'd do?"

She shrugged. "That you wouldn't want to be with me anymore."

"You thought I would leave you?" At this, Charlie released Hermione from his hold and gave her a hurtful glance.

"Not totally," she went on, looking to be on the verge of another round of tears, "but it did cross my mind."

"Hermione, how could you think that? How could you possibly think that?"

"I don't know, Charlie. I was just so shocked and so confused about what to do," she answered, folding her arms over her chest as the cold air persisted, "I didn't have anyone to turn to and ask for advice. So many different voices were going on in my head that it made me unsure of myself."

After a moment, Charlie grabbed both of Hermione's hands in his own and stated with clarity, "Hermione, listen to me: I would never leave you willingly, I couldn't. You know how I feel about you, I love you, with all of my heart. Nothing will ever change that, not even this unexpected life change," nodding towards her stomach. "I especially could never leave you now, considering that this baby is half mine."

Hermione looked down, shame overtaking her.

"Please, don't ever think that," he finished, gifting her with a soft, yet meaningful kiss. They both closed their eyes, feeling the need and desire they continued to share for one another, not letting anything or anybody erect defenses against the other.

They slowly pulled part, before Charlie stole another quick kiss on her lips. He wiped away her escaped tears with his thumbs as they shared another hug, holding onto one another. Hermione shut her eyes, feeling safe in Charlie's arms as they rocked slightly from side to side.

"So what do we do now," Hermione asked.

"We carry on like nothing's changed," he offered.

She pulled away from him. "Charlie, I don't want to keep this from your family. That wouldn't be right."

"Hermione, I think my family might start flinging hexes and curses at us if we told them the news, especially mum. I told you before that she's old-school when it comes to marriage and having children."

"Still, I've been telling Ron off for not letting your mum know that he quit Auror training. I would be a hypocrite if I did the same."

Charlie looked troubled as he rubbed the back of his head and questioned precariously, "You want to tell my family tonight?"

Hermione thought about this and then said, "No, not tonight, but tomorrow. I wouldn't want to ruin Christmas Eve for everyone."

"But you're willing to ruin Christmas Day," he posed, elegantly quirking up a brow.

The corners of her mouth ticked upward, sensing Charlie's tease and explained, "It just doesn't feel right tonight. I can't explain it but tomorrow, tomorrow's better."

"Okay, we'll tell everyone tomorrow then," he agreed. He paused and then said, "I can't believe I'm going to be a dad."

"You sound excited."

"Well I am," he confirmed. "I'm shocked too but that's wearing off a bit. It's just that I always wanted a family, I've been thinking about it for a while now, and trying to find the right bird to settle down with; now, it's coming true." A smile coated his face as he turned to her and said, "I'm glad I'm settling down with you, Hermione, I truly am. I'm always so happy when I'm with you. This moment right now ranks as the second-most defining moment of my life."

"Second? What comes before this one?"

"The night you and I talked for the first time, I mean really talked, back over the summer."

"That's your first? It was just a regular conversation and we were only distant friends then."

"True but if that night never happened, I don't think we would be standing here together right now."

"Did you know I was outside that night?"

"No," he answered honestly, "I didn't know at all. But I didn't mind in the slightest either. You didn't mind, did you?"

Hermione looked over up at and responded, "Maybe a little; I mean, I did go outside alone, didn't I, and didn't ask for anyone to accompany me?"

"You…you're not serious, are you?" Charlie looked as if he deflated a bit as a smirk raced over Hermione's face, which then turned into a small fit of laughter, something she couldn't help.

"I thought you would know me a little better by now, but no, I'm not serious. I told you before that I enjoyed our talk that night. I liked it a lot."

"You know, you really are a little minx," he remarked, though a certain amount of hilarity danced across his face, accompanied by the hundreds of lights strung around them.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"And you should because that's how it was meant."

"We could keep this up all night, going back and forth."

"I wouldn't mind," he stated simply.

"But I would."

"Is that my problem?"

"No, but it could be the baby's problem," she said, stopping Charlie dead in his tracks. "Wow, that was easier than I expected."

Charlie then jostled his head from left to right, crossing his arms over his own chest.

"You're waging an unfair tactic against me."

"Yes but it is an unfair tactic that we created together."

He paused and then commented, "I like the sound of that, actually: a baby we created together. It sounds so…I dunno, crazy, incredible, and fantastic all rolled into one?" He visibly shuddered. "It's like you and I are always going to be connected somehow with this baby. It makes me extremely happy."

"It sounds romantic to me," Hermione relayed, "but I like it too. Even though it wasn't planned, I'm happy I'm having your baby."

"No, not mine, ours, Hermione, our baby."

He smiled and then kissed her again, as they wrapped their arms around each other one more, the Christmas Lights of Amata twinkling brightly around them, while the two mugs of cocoa had turned cold, and long forgotten, as Hermione and Charlie did not return back to them for the rest of the night, Hermione only remembering them right before she fell soundly asleep in Charlie's arms some hours later.

Christmas Eve night ended with the Burrow cast in darkness, it nothing more than a towering structure that thundered up into the night sky, its tiled roof collecting the soft snow flurries that fell down upon it. It was hidden in the depths of a valley of shadows, cloud cover obscuring the moon and the stars that might have provided light over the home. The horizons that surrounded the Weasley residence were undefined though this went unnoticed for its occupants, for they were fast asleep, dreaming of the morning after, and love.

Charlie and Hermione were fast asleep in his childhood bed, Mrs. Weasley having insisted earlier that they spend the night, even though they now had a cottage to call their own, as they both were wearing large smiles, thinking of a life that would soon come, one they created together.

* * *

 **EPILOGUE  
** _1 year later_

The falling snow was building against the windowsill outside, the glassed pane frosting over due to the frigid chill that had blasted Devon into a harsh Christmas Eve night.

Charlie, however, wasn't paying it any attention, for he was leaning over the crib of his sleeping son, staring fondly down at him.

'He's perfect,' Charlie thought to himself, 'absolutely perfect in every imaginable way.'

He looked down at his son's fiery red hair (a trait he inherited from his father), that was cut rather short, and even though his eyes were closed, Charlie knew they housed the brown eyes of Hermione, beautiful irises that seemed to glow in the dark.

His gaze then fell upon the large 'P' that was plastered over his little chest, his mum having sewn the baby one her trademark Weasley sweaters, this one being a sapphire blue. She, of course, was surprised when he and Hermione announced that the latter was pregnant one year ago, even going so far as to giving them the cold shoulder for several months. However, once Phillip Weasley had been born, she was unable to stay away from her second grandchild, and first grandson, showering him with every gift Diagon Alley offered, and shooing Charlie and Hermione off on regular date nights (which always ended with the couple making love).

Charlie and Hermione had many restless slumbers however, Phillip letting it be known when he was hungry or needed to be changed. Charlie was always there first thing though, wanting to be able to comfort his firstborn, either feeding him a bottle of milk or changing his diaper.

Footsteps behind him signaled the arrival of Hermione, as she then came next to him, and copied his actions, watching little Phillip sleep the night away.

Charlie wrapped an arm over his fiancé's shoulders, pulling her close to his side, and kissing the top of her head.

"I can't stop looking at him," Charlie said to her quietly.

Hermione smirked. "He is precious."

"And so tiny," he added.

"He's definitely growing though," Hermione tacked on as well. "I mean, he's much bigger than when we first brought him home."

Charlie smiled and said after a moment, "I can't wait until he wakes up."

"Be careful what you wish for, Charlie, as I'm sure Phillip will hold you to that before the sun rises."

"I'll be here," he shrugged.

"Really?"

Charlie looked over at her with a brow quirked upward.

"You sound disappointed."

"That's because I am."

"And why is that, soon-to-be Mrs. Weasley?"

"I don't know but I was kind of hoping you and I could spend some quality time together in our own room. I thought you might want to open one of your presents early and I could open one of mine early."

"You're still a little minx, you know that," he regaled over, "but why not?"

"Hang on," Hermione stated, placing a hand on his chest as he turned away from the crib, "I don't you to do this like it's some chore."

He scoffed, "Trust me, Hermione, you are the only chore that I love to do."

With that, he grabbed her hand and led her out of Phillip's room, down the hall into their own quarters, where he shut the door halfway, and pressed his lips over hers greedily.

The pair then proceeded to pleasure one another with acts they had never tried before then. When Charlie came inside of her almost an hour later, he had never felt more satisfied in his entire life, as he decided to continually kiss Hermione and ravage her body until he could no more.

In turn, she kept pace with him, which only increased his drive of lust to make her feel like she was most prized jewel he had ever laid eyes on.

Some time later, however, mere hours before the sun rose in the east, did they finally fall asleep, Phillip giving no indication that he was hungry or needed to be changed, for which Charlie was grateful, as he spooned Hermione, acting as an added blanket to her naked body, holding her against him and wanting to never let go.


End file.
